


Midnight in Moscow: Подмосковные вечера

by Oceanwhirl



Series: Midnight in Moscow [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blindness, Boys In Love, Bratva, Coma, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Depression, Domestic Boyfriends, Drama, F/M, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Depictions of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insults, M/M, Mafia AU, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of pornography, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Russian Mafia, Scars, Sexual Abuse, Smoking, Suits, Tattoos, Thieves in Law, Trauma, Violence, criminal organisation, have tissues ready, mentions of fetish, mentions of rape/non-con, worse than my previous story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 07:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 157,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanwhirl/pseuds/Oceanwhirl
Summary: It's the day before Otabek Altin's 20th birthday and he is in Moscow to celebrate together with his best friend Yuri Plisetsky who he has been in love with for a very long time now.It never happens.Three years later Yuri has disappeared without a trace. Turns out that time has changed a lot of things, but it hasn't changed one thing: Otabek's determination.or: a different kind of Mafia AU in which Otabek is still damn hot in a suit. *Q*





	1. Prologue in a gloomy Moscow backstreet

**Author's Note:**

> So after I finished On love: Monster I felt so empty that I decided to not waste time and write this next project right away. X'D  
> As always, I appreciate your feedback A LOT, because I'm German and still struggle with English. So please feel free to tell me what you liked and what mistakes you noticed, so I can improve orz
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I'm in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. Also, all additional characters are purely fictional, any resemblance with any person living or deceased is unintentional. Please keep in mind that I'm just a fangirl lazily browsing the internet for any background knowlegde neccessary for this fanfiction, so there is most likely wrong information included in the story. Don't ever consider anything written here true!

 

Prologue in a gloomy Moscow backstreet

 

The air was clear and chilly in Moscow that night. There were no stars to be seen, of course, because the city was lit brightly, outshining the cosmos. The night sky was nothing but a violettish-gray blanket hanging overhead, gloomy but comforting. It seemed to be kind of glowing after the close-to-complete darkness of the movie theater when only the white sans-serif end credits had rolled over a pitch black screen, ghostly illuminating the edges of the seats and the faces of the audience. Cars passed by the sidewalk and the siren of a police car could be heard in the distance, weeping like a strange bird through the October air. On the opposite side of the street a group of young people, men and women, probably students, were laughing, a girl handing a bottle of vodka to another.

He felt a hand slipping into the pocket of his leather jacket and looked over to Yuri. The boy had a soft blush coloring his nosetip and looked ahead.

“It’s cold”, he said, his voice annoyed. They both knew that was not the point. He had taken Otabek’s hand during the film as well and it had not been cold in there.

“You should have brought your gloves”, he replied, keeping his eyes on the shape of Yuri’s nose and forehead. “Like I told you...”

“Yeah, sure.” If possible Yuri sounded even more annoyed, but it didn’t bother Otabek. It was just how Yuri was: pretty, sixteen and hiding a squishily soft core behind a rock hard shell.

“So, did you like it? The movie?”

The look on Yuri’s face changed rapidly, he gave Otabek a beaming smile through shoulder long light blonde hair. “Yeah, it was fucking awesome! That part when they took the body apart was so well animated! And the robot was rad as shit!”

Otabek nodded. In his pocket he entwined his fingers with Yuri's, the change in the green eyes making a spot underneath his belly button tickle, deep inside. It was awesome how fast Yuri’s expressions changed. How complex they were despite everyone saying that he was just an angry teenager who could only look either slightly annoyed or very annoyed. He had never quite understood how people couldn’t see how deep Yuri was and how colorful his emotions.

Yuri stopped, making him stop as well with their hands connected in the pocket and looked at him, his lashes long, his ears reddening. He seemed to have to say something, but didn’t dare.

Otabek knew what it meant, this look on his best friend's face, so insecure but demanding at the same time. They needed to talk, soon. The tension that had built up was getting too much for both of them. He could only guess how Yuri felt about all that. Otabek had had more than six years now to warm up to the thought that he had lost his heart to the Russian Fairy, and it was driving him crazy.

But Yuri had known him for less than a year in which it all had escalated quickly. Their encounter in Barcelona, the night out after the final, his visit in Almaty off season, their trip to the beach after the Worlds and now Otabek’s birthday here in Moscow. From strangers to friends to best friends to best friends forever to _what_? Being the modest person he had grown up to be Otabek had been okay with all of their relationships from that day when they had acknowledged their friendship with a hand shake like some sort of treaty. He was open for more, anything basically. But Yuri wasn’t modest (never had been, never would be); he was young, he was wild, he was greedy and so obviously attracted to him that Otabek wondered why he still hadn’t made a move.

Of course he could have done that himself already. But he had decided to give Yuri time. Time to find out what he felt, how he worked, what he wanted and when he wanted it. Otabek had been supportive without saying anything, like he used to. He had helped Yuri with his exhibition, had accepted and finally returned Yuri’s rare but frequent hugs, had cuddled on his sofa in Almaty when Yuri had initiated it, and had run his thumb over the back of Yuri’s hand in the theater, making the boy blush in the darkness. But if Yuri was ready for more, for coming out in the open, he’d need to do it himself. Otabek wouldn’t help him there. He’d respond positively to anything Yuri did or said, but he’d not make a move on him, because he was so scared of forcing Yuri into something he didn’t really want.

(“You are a saint, my sweet Erasyl”, his friend Khaligaz had said, shaking her head smiling, using the Kazakh pet name for ‘noble hero’ on him like she did so often. She was the only one he had told about how he felt for Yuri. She was his best female friend and they were born on the same day and he had felt the need to explain why he wasn’t in Almaty to celebrate with her this year, like they had done the previous 20 years. She had smiled and kissed his cheek and added: “I was really looking forward to become your wife one day. But we both know that this love we share is like a sister loves her brother and the other way around, not more not less. I’m just so happy that you found someone who fills your heart with warmth and joy and I know that he loves you just as much.” She had met Yuri after the finals after all. And her affectionate, knowing smile had once more proven Otabek that she was more understanding of feelings than anyone else and that she could be trusted with all his longing.)

So here he was, standing in the middle of the pavement, looking at Yuri and Yuri looking at him. They were at eye level now with how much Yuri had grown in the summer, but Yuri was still way more slender than Otabek, lean and elegant, like a cat.

Yuri looked around, then pulled their hands out of Otabek’s pocket and with a “Come” turned to march down the street, clearly with something on his mind.

Otabek followed him, his fingers squeezed tightly by Yuri’s hand, getting colder by second in the chilly Russian night. He didn’t say anything, not even when Yuri led him into a small side street. The asphalt was crumbling and shining from the wetness of the molten away first snow of the year that had fallen this afternoon. It was dark and cold, but he didn’t even give it a second thought, because Yuri stopped a few meters down the narrow street, probably a dead end considering the bulk rubbish that was piled up in a dirty cluster at the far end, because he could only look at Yuri. Yuri who looked up at him, his eyes piercing, like they always had been, still holding his hand and then taking a tiny step, coming just a handspan of a distance closer than what was usual.

“I need to tell you something”, he said, his voice low. The blush on the tip of his nose was adorable. He inhaled shakily, continued: “I wanted to wait for the right moment. But there have been many by now and I only recognized them when they were over already and that sucks. So I’ll just say it now and if it’s not the right moment then screw it, because-” He shrugged, pressing Otabek’s hand a little harder. “You are a wonderful friend. The most wonderful, at least from what I can tell. And I was really happy with our friendship, but… I don’t think I can go on like that.”

Otabek’s heart stopped beating.

“I’m not sure if you noticed it too, but I feel like there is some tension between us that is not normal for friends.” His eyes wandered over Otabek’s petrified face, his dry throat, his aching chest. “I thought it would stop at some point. I really hoped it would disappear, but instead over time it just worsened and now somehow it is too much for me. I can’t bear that anymore, I can’t be silent about that anymore.” He looked up at Otabek, who felt numb inside, so numb that he couldn’t even make his mouth say something. He had been so terribly wrong.

“The truth is,”, Yuri woke him from his hopeless thoughts, frowning, “the truth is that I fell in love with you, Otabek. Deeply.” He bit his lip lowering his gaze and Otabek was very confused.

So Yuri _did_ like him. His brain had some struggle suddenly changing his emotions from absolute despair about how Yuri supposedly pushed him away to indescribable joy about his confession. But when it had managed to process the information, echoing Yuri’s words, “Deeply, deeply, deeply–“, his heart started beating again. His hands trembled violently, his exhale was a perplexed laugh that made Yuri look up at him again.

“Yuri”, he whispered and wrapped his arms around him, pulling the boy close. When he felt Yuri’s hands on his back it was like his organs tightened into a knot, forcing him to bend forward. Holding Yuri even closer, he pushed his face into the blonde hair that smelled so good, so wonderfully like Yuri. He had never been that happy in his life.

“Ooooh, look how cute they are!” The voice came from the left, from the street where they had entered the small backstreet and it made them distance themselves from each other. Only for forcing them apart, Otabek - usually a very peaceful character - wanted to break someone’s legs. He looked over to where the voice had come from, catching sight of a group of four persons making their way over to them. He felt Yuri stiffening beside him.

“Sorry, we didn’t want to interrupt”, another guy said. “Please keep going.”

“Yeah”, a third one lauhed. “I wanna see the blonde beauty in action.”

“Leave us alone”, Yuri said, forcing his voice to remain calm and neutral.

“Woooahwooah, wait”, exclaimed the third one, an ugly guy with shaved hair and tattered jeans jacket that blended in perfectly with his coarse companions. “The bitch is no bitch at all!”

“Looks like we interrupted some damn faggot make-out, guys!” The group howled like a pack of hyenas.

“We need to get out of here”, Yuri whispered, taking a step backwards as the gang approached, dragging on Otabek’s jacket.

The Kazakh felt fear rushing through his veins. The backstreet still was a dead end. They were trapped.

“Please, leave us alone”, he tried to reason, but of course it was futile. Those guys were in seek of a quarrel and they wouldn’t let them go so easily. He needed to at least try though. “We haven’t done anything to you and therefore we do not want any business with you.”

One of the guys laughed. “Did you really think you could stain our lovely Moscow with your dirty behavior and get away with it?” He came to a halt, making a hand gesture like he was the leader of a troop. “Let’s give you a lesson on how we treat faggots like you here in Russia.” The other three came closer, slowly and threatening.

Otabek stepped in front of Yuri. He’d protect him, no matter what.

“Otabek”, the blonde hissed sounding just as scared as Otabek felt.

The leader yelled: “Go get him, but leave the blonde to me!”, and in a second they were surrounded. Otabek held out his hand to prevent Yuri from interfering, but didn’t even have the time to say something when the thugs attacked.

The Kazakh had never been in a fight before. His mother had raised him to be a calm, reasonable, peaceful person. He was reticent and avoided conflicts and he certainly wasn’t violent, but he didn’t have a choice now and when the first punches came his way he had to somehow fight back. He knew he didn’t stand a chance, the only way to get out of this with as little damage as possible was to keep those guys busy so that Yuri could make a run.

So he tried to dodge the fists and although he received some really painful blows he was under the impression that he did kind of well. That was only until he heard Yuri yell: “Leave him alone you fucking bastards! Get your dirty hands off my friend or I’ll kick your ugly asses!”

“Yuri, don’t!” He turned to where the blonde had been a second before, seeing how the gang leader walked up to him and dragged him off the back of one of the other guys.

“You stay with me, pretty boy”, he said, gripping Yuri’s hair with one hand and his neck with the other, making the blonde whine in pain.

There Otabek snapped. It was like his vision turned red, his blood rushed in his ears as he saw that guy touching Yuri, hurting Yuri, his Yuri, _his Yuri_. “Get away from him!”, he shouted, making a step towards them, pushing one of the other guys who was in his way against the brick wall. Through the red he saw Yuri’s pained expression and the smirk on that guy’s face, his hand clutching around Yuri’s throat. A big, raw hand with a tattoo of an eagle holding a diamond, wrapped around Yuri’s white, delicate, fragile windpipe. “I kill you!!”

A kick in his knee pit sent him to the floor. He tried to get up, but another kick sent him back down again. He heard Yuri cry out his name, “Otabek!!”, sounding hysteric, heard another voice laughing “You better focus on where the action is!”. And then there was more pain, in his ribcage, his stomach, his head. He couldn’t get up although he tried, he struggled, but his arms and legs gave in under the weight, under the pain. There were even more kicks and punches that made his vision go black with white dots for a moment and then a sharp pain in his shoulder, a shout from the leader “You have a knife?! Are you insane?! You’re killing him!!”.

He heard Yuri cry. He heard a siren. He heard the bells of the clock tower beating twelve and it was his birthday now. He couldn’t celebrate with Yuri like that. Everything hurt. He coughed and some liquid bubbled out between his lips, leaving a metallic taste. Had that one guy stabbed him? Was he dying? It hurt like hell.

“Otabek!! No!!”, he heard a voice. Yuri’s voice. Yes, Yuri. He had confessed to him just now hadn’t he? He needed to tell him, tell him that he loved him too, had loved him for so long now.

“Let’s get out of here!!”, a male voice shouted, then: “Take that, faggot!” He felt pain exploding in his head and then nothing.

And that’s how Otabek Altin died on his 20th birthday in a dark, cold backstreet in Moscow, a lock of his bloodstained hair carefully pushed back by the trembling fingers of Yuri Plisetsky who still called his name when the police came.


	2. 1062

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided on updating once a week, no particular day though, because I don't know yet how the story will progress.

He woke up with a headache. Even before he opened his eyes he felt it like a knitting needle going right through his brain, from the forehead to the nape. With a groan he opened his eyes.

The ceiling was white. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the wall to his left was white. The wall to the right was white. The wall in front of him was white. He could only guess what color the wall behind him had. There was a window with a white curtain, dimming the light of the winter afternoon. Winter afternoon? Was it afternoon? He turned his head to see the small clock on his bedside table. But of course it wasn’t there. Because of course this wasn’t his bedroom at all. His bedroom wasn’t all white.

Confused he looked around. The first thing that caught his attention was the weird plant on the white metal pedestal. It was the only thing that wasn’t white. Huge green leaves shimmered like they were coated in wax, the petal (if it was a petal) was yellow and resembled the neck of a rooster. He couldn’t rely on a massive knowledge about potted plants but this thing looked prehistoric, like it was straight out of some dinosaur movie.

The next thing that caught his eyes were the machines. They were huge and white and placed next to his bed. Only when he noticed the intravenous bottle holder next to it he could make sense of it: He was in a hospital.

A slight panic crept up his spine. Why was he in hospital? Had he had an accident? He couldn’t remember. He looked down his body. No broken leg or arm peeked out from under the white blanket. He had an infusion, that at least explained the IV holder and there was something attached to his finger. But apart from that he didn’t notice any serious damage to his body. If he was in hospital though, there must be something, he just needed to find it.

He tried sitting up, but found it difficult. First, there was the thing attached to his throat. It tugged on him when he repositioned himself in a disgusting way. Second, moving his body was not as easy as he was used to. It felt like he was stuck in a tub full of jelly, or like gravity had increased tenfold over night.

With a grunt he laid down again. His heart was beating fast and it was hard to breathe. What the hell was going on?

He closed his eyes to rest a second. The headache had worsened. He looked over to the pedestal. There was an emergency button. Maybe if he pressed it someone would come, this was a hospital, they could at least provide him with some painkillers for his headache. And maybe once they were here explain why _he_ was here in the first place.

Lifting is arm to the button that was attached to a cable was a struggle, but he managed and when he had pressed the button (which was red, making the plant only one of two things not white in the room), a small red light lit up.

It took only seconds until he heard fast footsteps outside, then the white door was opened in a rush.

Three nurses in white uniforms stared at him from the door frame. Of course they were wearing white dresses and bonnets, he should have been expecting that much. But still he felt that he was developing a slight aversion to the hue.

“Go inform Doctor Aronova”, the first nurse, a short elderly lady with olive skin and thick black curls in a low bun, said and the third nurse, a slender young woman with chestnut hair in the same hairstyle, nodded and ran off down the corridor.

He tried to sit up to protest. There was no need to call a doctor, all he needed was a pill to make this terrible headache go away.

“Please, remain laid”, the first nurse said, approaching him. The second nurse, a woman that looked very Russian with her long, sharp nose and blonde bleached hair, followed her, taking the clipboard from where it hung from the metal footboard of his bed. The first nurse whipped a small flashlight from the front pocket of her dress.

“I’m nurse Aitmukhambetova, this is nurse Nabieva”, she introduced themselves. “I need to check your reflexes. Do you know who you are?”

Otabek frowned. Of course he knew who he was.

He tried to say it, but his tongue felt like it was glued to his gum, so he just slowly nodded.

The nurse with the terribly long name held his one eye open with two fingers and checked it with the flashlight, then went over to the other one. “Everything normal.”

Nurse Nabieva wrote something on the clipboard.

The Khazakh nurse checked his pulse and nodded, nurse Nabieva wrote.

“Are you in pain?”

Again Otabek nodded, but the Kazakh nurse had turned to switch off one of the white machines next to his bed so she didn’t see it. It was a pain, but Otabek tried and after a long moment of fearing that he couldn’t make his tongue work managed to get the word “headache” out. It sounded like hitting an old pot with a rake.

The Kazakh nurse nodded and nurse Nabieva put the clipboard back in place and left the room, most likely to go fetch some painkillers for him.

With a sigh the remaining nurse checked the infusion needle in his hand. “Do you know where you are?”

That wasn’t too hard to guess. Otabek snorted (or did something similar, he couldn’t be sure with the thing attached to his throat) and said: “Hospital.” His voice was weak and raspy. He also felt that the pronunciation wasn’t right. But his tongue still felt so heavy.

Again the nurse nodded. It seemed to be her favorite gesture. “Do you know what brought you here?”

“Ambulance”, he joked, making the nurse roll her eyes.

“Well it seems your bad-humour-center wasn’t damaged.” She looked down on him reprehending, so he shrugged. She explained: “You got into a fight and those hooligans didn’t go easy on you to say the least. You suffered serious internal injuries, among them a severe traumatic brain injury. It’s a wonder you got away with your life. You were in a coma though.”

Otabek stared at her.

“Don’t look at me like it’s my fault, why do you boys always get in fights anyway?” She raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. “Some things never change I guess. Lay down and rest a little, Nurse Nabieva will be back with your painkiller soon enough and when the doctor comes we need to make a full check, so relax as long as you can. I’ll go call your parents and tell them you’re awake.”

He watched her leave the room, then sank back in the pillow. He hadn’t even noticed his whole body had tensed up. The back of his head hurt from the pressure.

The doctor, a friendly looking lady with a witty sparkle in her black eyes, made indeed a full check and explained all the injuries he had suffered in the fight. He had recovered from all of them already though. She asked him if he remembered his name, his birth date and where he lived while nurse Nabieva gave him the painkiller (“Deglutition coordination close to normal”, she murmured when he had swallowed the pill and went over to write something down on the clipboard once more) and he could answer all the questions. When she asked him about the incident though he could only shake his head. He didn’t remember a fight. He didn’t even remember that he had been in Moscow lately or why. It was confusing and frightening and exhausting.

“It will come back eventually”, Doctor Aronova prognosticated. “It’s a wonder you remember so much already, after that time in a coma you normally turn into vegetable if you pardon the expression.” She grinned sheepishly. “Rest now, you need to get used to all the trouble again. Your parents are on their way, get ready for some excitement.” She winked at him and then all the women left him be again.

He didn’t close his eyes with the intention of sleeping, but it happened nevertheless.

**П**

He woke from the sound of his mother’s sobs. The headache had disappeared and he opened his eyes, turning his head at the same time.

The light had changed, it was golden now, almost orange. Must be evening.

“Moth’r”, he said, his voice still very awkward sounding, the ‘th’ slurring.

She rose her face from her hands in which she had hidden her overflowing eyes and if possible they were overflowing even more when she saw that he was awake.

“Otabiy, Otabek, by boy, my lovely son”, she howled and kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his hair. Her tears fell onto his face and she wiped them away with shaking hands. “Oh, how lucky I am! How lucky we all are, Allah is good, so good to us to bring us our boy back!” She laughed under her tears and it made Otabek smile as well.

“My son.”

He looked up to see his father a step behind his mother, with tears in his eyes. He had never seen his father cry. Never. It was weird.

“Thank Allah the Almighty”, he murmured, his voice as deep as ever, but a little shaky. His brows were furrowed when he came closer and took Otabek’s hand, squeezing the fingertips lightly and avoiding the infusion needle. “A father should not bury his only son. Allah has proven his love for us.” He let go of his fingers again, looking down on him with glittering eyes.

Otabek frowned. What was all that Allah talk about all of a sudden? “S’nce when’re you r’ligious”, he said with a light chuckle. The whole situation was kind of bizarre.

“The flow of time has changed a lot of things”, his mother answered and combed her fingers through his hair. “And it has changed us for sure, you have to understand.”

He didn’t understand at all. His family had never been religious. Sure he was circumcised, they didn’t eat pork (except in shashlik, because shashlik without pork didn’t deserve the name) and they married before the face of Allah, but all that akbar talk was news to him. Even among the Kazakh muslims that had willingly stuck to soviet customs his family had always been one of the more liberal ones. What had happened while he had been in a coma. Or rather:

“How long?” His throat felt dry all of a sudden.

His parents looked at each other. Then his mother’s expression became apologetic.

“Didn’t they tell you?”

He searched his memory for some seconds, but couldn’t remember if someone had mentioned it. So he shook his head.

His father stiffened, his mother  smiled weirdly.

“Almost three years.”

It was like a punch in the guts. “What?”, he gasped.

“Oh my poor darling, my poor Otabiy”, his mother cooed, crying again.

He looked to his father. The oldest Altin’s face was wrinkled, his hair had grayed above the ears. He looked old, worn out. And helpless. “You heard your mother”, he said with his brows narrowed, so similar to Otabek’s expression but tired. “It  is the 28 th of September today. You  will be twentythree next month.”

Otabek felt like throwing up.

“Don’t worry now, my lovely boy”, his mother murmured. Tears were still falling from her eyes as she caressed his hair. “You need to rest and regain your strength. Don’t worry, we have time. Everything will be alright.”

His father nodded reassuring, but Otabek felt terrible.

Even after his parents had left to let him rest he stared at the ceiling in disbelief. Three years. Three years in which he had slept, laid there, unconscious, not noticing how the life around him went on, how time passed for everyone, but not for him. He was so confused,  but at least it explained his disorientation and why he had a hard time moving as his muscles must have gotten weak over time. He’d have to get used to it, like the doctor had said.

But there was something else  peeling itself out of the shadows that were his thoughts. It was fear. Fear that there was no place for him anymore. This world had progressed. Athousandsixtytwo days. Things had changed. But he hadn’t. He was something that didn’t belong to this world, to this time. He was something from the past. A relic. Something left behind brought here. What if there was no place for him here?

“St’p crying”, he said to himself, wiping the tears from his eyes. Right, crying had never helped anyone. He’d stand up and fight, struggle and catch up. What were three years, only three years – not even three years! He’d start tomorrow, right tomorrow. He’d get up in the morning and work out his weak body. He’d catch up to what had happened in the world and he’d be back in business in no time. He wasn’t known for giving up easily after all. He’d start right after breakfast tomorrow. 

But first he’d need to rest a little, replenish his resources that had been drained out by his parent’s  visit. First a little sleep. Only a little.

**О**

He didn’t have breakfast.

“It’s a wonder you can talk”, nurse Aitmukhambetova said, her eyebrows rising towards her hair line. “It’s a wonder you didn’t suffocate on the pill that this irresponsible Russian devil made you swallow yesterday.” Seemed she didn’t like nurse Nabieva. “We need to remove your tracheostoma, get you used to breathing by yourself. You were in a coma, boy, that’s not a flu. Go light a candle that you didn’t aspirate and catch a pneumonia. That is, once you are capable of _going_ again.” She shook her head. “And I will certainly not have you choke on a piece of bread, not when I’m in charge.”

Later, when he’d look back and remember her, he’d realize that she had been a good person with a kind heart, but in this moment he could only hate her for what she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved reading all your shocked comments on the prologue, but of course I can not let my baby die! I'm not that much of a monster!!!! X'D
> 
> So here we are in a very complicated medical topic that I have no idea about ^^' I researched a little (a lot actually -.-') on coma and effects and it all is very terrible, so I ignored most of the facts and made up a lot. It's actually super unlikely that Otabek could talk after such a long coma, my sister works as a speech therapist and what she told me was awful, also about the risks of aspiration and pneumonia and stuff, so I decided to work with some aspects of it but have him move and talk a little. It would have been too boring otherwise.
> 
> Thanks for bothering with me and please let me know how/if you like the story, what you liked, what you found not so good/terrible and how I can improve.


	3. It's Otabek Altin

It turned out that the intensive rehabilitation phase would at least take three months. He’d have to learn how to breathe without relying on the machine. He’d have to learn how to move his body again without collapsing back onto the mattress exhausted after mere seconds. He’d have to learn how to speak properly again (surprisingly enough he had been able to communicate, but later on he got told that it had been hard to understand).

He spent his birthday in the hospital. Khaligaz came for a visit with her family. She had married his cousin Belek and they had a two-year old daughter, Zarina, who looked at him with pitch-black button eyes.

“We didn’t wait a year”, she had explained when she had first visited him a few days after he had woken up. She referred to the custom to wait a year with a marriage after a family member had died from an accident, disease or murder. “My parents thought it would be disrespectful, but I really wanted to marry before the year had passed, because I knew you would live. I knew you would come back. And I wanted to let them all know how confident I was in your strength.”

So now she introduced him her little daughter, and Otabek, who had sat up in his bed, let her play with his fingers, grasping them with small tan hands.

“We named her after you”, his cousin explained. “We wanted the gold in her name.”

Otabek gave him a thankful look, then focused on the clumsy little girl again. “She’s beautiful”, he said, then addressing oblivious Zarina: “You are beautiful.”

The girl looked up at him with a wide smile, but Otabek sat in shock. He had said those words before. He didn’t know when or where or towards whom, but they rang a bell, deep, deep inside. The echo of it in his mind gave him goosebumps. He had forgotten something. Something important.

“Careful with uncle Otabek, Rina”, Khaligaz sang and caught her daughter’s hands who found the bandaids on the back of his hand very interesting. The words made him startle and come back from his thoughts.

“You don’t need to stay with me all day”, he said, smiling lightly. But there was an emptiness in his chest he couldn’t explain. Of course Khaligaz noticed, giving her husband a loving look, when he added: “It’s your birthday as well, I’m sure you have a lot to prepare before your guests arrive.”

Khaligaz smiled and took his hand. “I wish you could be with us.”

“Next year”, he replied. “I promise.”

Belek plucked his daughter from Otabek and left the room with a nod, leaving the two of them alone.

They sat in silence for some moments. It was past noon already, his lunch would arrive soon. Nurse Aitmukhambetova had promised him cake.

“Khaligaz”, he said and she looked away from the window to meet his eyes.

She resembled her daughter a lot with her big black eyes and glossy black hair that Belek had insisted she showed even after the marriage. She smiled at him knowingly.

“What did I do in Moscow?”, he asked. No one had told him, like it was a big secret or like no one even knew. Neither his mother nor his father. She was the only person who might know and from how she sighed he could tell that she did.

“You still don’t remember”, she said and tilted her head a little. “Oh my lovely Erasyl, how much pain must you endure not remembering him.” The name, Erasyl, rolled off her tongue like a distant memory, familiar and warm. But everything else hurt like a thousand needles.

“Who?”, he breathed.

“Him, who you have followed all your life, until it almost ended, up there, with him, in Moscow. Yuri.”

She smiled sadly but he didn’t even see it. Yuri. Yuri Plisetsky. His Yuri. How could he have forgotten!

It was like he dived into a pool of memories, warm and cold at the same time. Laughter was there, and pain, porcelain skin, long hair so light blonde it shimmered like spun gold coated in ice. A pinkish blush on a lovely nose tip. Hesitating fingers taking his hand. His dark voice whispering his name, saying his name, screaming his name. Piercing eyes, green as tourmaline.

“Yuri”, he whispered. Tears fell from his eyes.

He had forgotten him. The love of his life.

“Yuri”, he whispered, raising his hands to hide his tears behind them. “I forgot him.” He was shocked. Of all people in the world the one he needed to remember was Yuri, at all times! How could he have forgotten him, his adorable, fragile, beautiful Yuri.

(Beautiful. He remembered now. Yuri on his couch, in his apartment, in one of Otabek’s wrinkled old t-shirts, the neckline so loose that it has slipped from one of the skinny but well-toned shoulders. Yuri looks up at him, pushing a strand of wonderful hair behind his ear and Otabek says: “You are beautiful.” Yuri laughs with his enchanting deep voice and wrestles him down on the padding in a rough boyish embrace. “Shut up, you sound like a fucking weirdo.” Otabek nods and is incredibly in love but doesn’t say so.)

He felt the mattress shifting when Khaligaz sat down on it, pulling him in a tight embrace. Her body was warm and soft, her big breasts pressed against his chest, as she kissed his temple. “It’s alright”, she murmured, “You were badly injured. Isn’t that what the doctor said? It will come back with time. You didn’t forget him. You just didn’t remember him right away, that’s all.”

Another thought struck Otabek like lightning and he sat up. He had been in a fight. In Moscow. Had Yuri been with him? “What happened to him?”, he asked his friend. He didn’t remember anything of what had happened, neither the fight, and much less the outcome or the reason. Anything. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

Khaligaz wiped his cheeks with her small hands. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He sobbed and she took his hands that he had clenched into fists. “He must have made it out unharmed. We would have heard if something had happened to him.”

With a nod he kept crying, a little relieved though. She was right. If something had happened to him, someone would have been informed. But the worry was drilling itself into his chest.

Khaligaz wiped his tears and held him close for a long time until he stopped crying. She was still as reliable as she had been all their lives and he enjoyed it a lot. “I’ll be there whenever you need me, my brave friend”, she murmured and kissed his hair. It almost made him cry again to hear her say that. He was incredibly thankful.

**д**

After some time he could get up from his bed. The rehabilitation was hell, but he pushed himself beyond his limits day after day.

“You’re a maniac”, nurse Aitmukhambetova said with a shrug when she found him doing routines in the early morning.

Everything hurt. He wondered how he had been capable of skating back in the day. He remembered the movements, like it was etched into his muscles but couldn’t make his body move like that. It made him so angry.

They released him.

His apartment had been sold, so he had to move in with his parents again.

“We needed the money”, his father said. “It’s not exactly cheap to keep your son alive over three years when he can’t breathe by himself.” He shrugged, knowing that Otabek would feel bad about causing so much trouble, so he added: “You’ll care for us when in the end we can’t breathe by ourselves. That’s what family is for.” Otabek nodded, thankful.

No one mentioned Yuri. He asked his mother about him one time and she froze in her movement, her hands levitating over the dough she was preparing. “I don’t know”, she said. “He was your friend, I know that much. But since we brought you home I never heard of him.”

He had been in the hospital in Moscow for two weeks. After his condition had kind of stabilized they took him home to Almaty. The hospital was remote and after a short time the media gave up trying to break his parents’ silence and left them alone. Since then it seemed that the world had forgotten about Otabek Altin.

It gave him time to return. He could prepare for his comeback to the world. He worked hard, ran, swam, read, had his uncle who had been a professional kickboxer help him with his workout.

He had grown when he had been in coma, four centimeters. He found it strange, but didn’t complain. Measuring a meter and seventysix now and his shoulders and chest broader from the workout all his clothes were too small. Khaligaz took him shopping and cut his hair back to his old hairstyle.

“I’ll leave the top a little longer, so it covers the scar. And it looks really good on you like that, too”, she said, smiling, and although he didn’t really share that opinion there was nothing he could do, as she was in possession of the scissors. When he showered after training the next day the front strands hung in his eyes, so he slicked it back with a frown.

Of course he had scars.

The biggest one was from the knife. It ran down his shoulder blade, a straight dark relief on his tan skin. He had been lucky enough, the bone had prevented the blade from going any deeper where it might had damaged muscles or organs. That guy had been a total jerk, but that fact might have saved his life.

The most obvious scars were those in his face: one splitting his left eyebrow, one on the back of his nose bridge, one following his jaw line up to his left ear lobe, making it appear even sharper than before. Those adding to the small acne scars on his cheek bones.

There were more, from the operations, on his shin that had been shambles, on his elbow, his chest and of course from his appendix operation when he had been a child. He looked like a ragdoll.

The one on the back of his head was invisible under his thick black hair, but he could feel it with his fingers. When he felt if for the first time it gave him the chills. So, this had almost killed him. This had cost him three years, his career, his strength and his best friend who he had been desperately in love with. It had ruined his life. How fragile the human body was. How easy to break. And what for? It was brutality, stupidity, hate that had almost ended his life. He still didn’t remember, but he had never been violent and he couldn’t imagine that he had done something to anyone. But still they – whoever they had been – had decided to attack him, to hurt him, maybe to kill him. They had decided to break his body, possibly even to forcefully end his life. Most likely just for the sake of hurting him (because, what other reason was there for any kind of violence in the end?). At first he was just scared by the thought. But the more often he ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the scar on his scalp, the more he felt the anger grow in his chest. It flourished like an evil flower, like a creature lingering between his heart and his soul. And as much as he wanted it to disappear it grew and grew there in the dark.

**м**

January came. Then February. It was at the end of the month when his parents made two confessions to him, one each of them.

First was his father. “We don’t know where the money comes from”, he said, his face a mirror image of Otabek’s, just older. “It started almost a year after _it_ had happened to you.” His parents avoided the term coma like the name of a devil. Whenever they were forced to use the word they added the name of Allah like to make up for the evil the term provided. Otabek found it superstitious, but after all his parents had been through he was in no position to judge them, so he kept quiet. “The amount has been the same from the first time. Almost a million tenge. Every month.” He looked at Otabek for a moment like he was not sure if his son should know all this, but then continued: “Of course we tried our best to find out where the money came from. But whatever we tried, who ever we asked, it remained a secret. All we found out is that it was deposited cash, every 30 th of the month, source unknown. And as it remained a mystery we accepted it. We had just sold your apartment. We made good use of the money. It paid the bills for your hospital. One could say it saved your life and we thanked Allah everyday for the good soul who shared their wealth to keep you alive.”

Otabek sat down on the seat in his parents’ dark furnished sitting room. He felt dizzy. A million tenge, twelve times a year, for three years. That was a fortune. “And it hasn’t stopped.”

His father nodded. “The money still arrives, every month on the 30th. There are two ways to make it stop. Either we close down the bank account or we make the world know that you are fine again.”

Otabek nodded. He _was_ fine again, physically at least, mentally very close to it. Only the last few months before the coma had not come back to him. But despite that there was no reason for him to hide. “That’s what we are going to do”, he said. “Why haven’t you told me earlier, we cannot take the money, now that I’m doing well again.”

His father made a face. “We only wanted you to get better”, he justified. “This money saved us all. The costs had ruined us if it hadn’t been for that money.”

“But I’m fine again”, Otabek said, his voice loud. He never yelled, normally. But it felt wrong to take money from someone although he didn’t have to rely on it anymore. And he had been awake for almost half a year now. He was in perfectly good shape again, maybe even better than before thanks to his training and still his father had kept it a secret that they still received such a huge amount every month. “I’m fine and I have been for weeks, and still you didn’t bother to tell me!”

His father rose from his seat on the opposite side of the table. “Don’t you dare talking to your father like that!”, he growled, but it made Otabek even more angry and he rose from his seat as well.

“Then stop keeping secrets from me!”, he gave back, his whole body tensed. “I have a right to know the truth! It’s _my_ life that money saved and I _already_ feel guilty about it, so you could at least have had the modesty to tell me right away!”

His father grit his teeth like he was about to blow off, but instead he snorted and sat down again. “Do what you want”, he said. “It’s your decision, it’s your life. But don’t forget that you owe Allah for it. Be thankful.”

Otabek swallowed an answer and nodded. “Yes”, he then said. “I sure am.” He didn’t say towards who though.

Only two days later his mother looked at him that strange way. “There is something I haven’t told you”, she said, wringing her hands.

Otabek felt his insides tense. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for more secrets, but he didn’t let it show.

“Mr Nikiforov visited a few times after _it_ happened. You know, this very friendly young man...”

“Yes”, he said. “Viktor.”

His mother nodded. “He was very friendly, a very friendly young man. He was very concerned about you. He always asked for permission before he came, so that we could be there. It was in spring, every spring we would call and then come from Russia, all the way to Almaty. He would sit beside your bed and talk to us, his friend next to him, this Chinese man.”

“Japanese”, Otabek said automatically. He hadn’t thought of Viktor and Yuuri before his mother had brought it up. He didn’t feel like he had forgotten them, he just hadn’t had a reason to think about them. Now that he did, it felt all really natural, like it had been there all the time. He didn’t feel bad, not how he had when he had remembered Yuri for the first time.

“They were both very nice. They came in spring, every year in march. They came to see you and after an hour they bid farewell and went home again.” She smiled. “It’s almost that time again, you know.”

He nodded, understanding. “Is there a way to get in contact with them?”

His mother nodded. “He left me his phone number in case I needed his help.” Getting up she went to fetch her address book from the corridor where she had kept it in the drawer under the small board with the phone on top. She handed him the note. A Russian cell phone number was written in it in her neat handwriting and he thanked her low voiced and excused himself to the hallway. He found that the appropriate place to make this call, next to the little board with the low bench attached to it, old dark wood and a worn green cover over the deformed padding.

He had a new cell phone so he had to copy the number to his contact list first. When he was finished he stared at the display, then touched the speaker icon. It was no use hesitating.

Viktor picked up after a few seconds with a curious “Hellooo?”, as he didn’t recognize the number calling.

“Hello Viktor”, he said slowly. “It’s Otabek Altin.” He waited, but received no response. Had the connection been cut? “Hello?”

He heard a sharp inhale, then a whispered “Ohmygod”, then a yelled “Yuuri, Yuuri!! Oh my God, come here!! Fast! Fast!!! Otabek is awake!!”

There was a loud metallic noise in the background, then a “Shimatta!” and he heard fast footsteps approach. “What did you say?!”, Yuuri exclaimed.

“It’s Otabek, he’s on the phone, he’s awake!!”

Some strange sound was to be heard, then Yuuri was on the phone, breathless. “Otabek?”

He almost grinned. “Hello Yuuri. It’s been a while”, he said calmly, making the Japanese yelp.

“Oh my God, it’s really you!”, Yuuri squealed, then started to cry audibly.

“Solnishko”, Viktor said in the background, his voice still as gentle and loving towards the Japanese man as it had been three years ago.

“Can I put you on speaker?”, Yuuri asked him with shaky voice and Otabek nodded.

“Sure.”

The sound changed a little, then Viktor cleared his throat. “Otabek”, he said, slowly like he tried to test how the name sounded after all that time. “You have no idea how good it is to have you call.” His voice was a little raspy, like he was struggling with his emotions as well.

“I am really glad as well”, he answered.

“How are you? When did you… come back?”, Yuuri asked choosing his words carefully.

“It has been some time actually”, he replied. “I had to do a lot of rehabilitation before I could call though. To be honest I only just now learned that you had been coming over frequently. I am very thankful for your concern.”

A low chuckle came from the speaker. “You are still as awkward as usual”, Viktor commented, causing a hissed “Vicchan, behave!” from his Japanese husband.

“It’s okay”, Otabek said, smiling himself now. “It is relaxing to finally have people interact with me normally. I gained consciousness in September last year already, couldn’t move, couldn’t talk properly. I even had to learn how to breathe by myself. So it took me some time until I could really _live_ again.” He heard Yuuri whisper something in Japanese and continued: “The training was really hard, but I think I am in better shape than ever before now. I’m taller as well, seems you still grow even in a coma.” He laughed lowly, on the other end of the line he heard the couple do the same.

“How tall are you know?”, Viktor asked.

“One seventysix.”

“Maji?!” Yuri again. “You’re taller than me now, how is that fair?” They all laughed, then Viktor asked: “Have you talked to… someone else already?” It was clear from the pause who he was referring to.

“No”, Otabek said hesitating. “I don’t have any contact information other than yours.”

“You’ll find Phichit on any social network existing”, Yuuri said. “Not very surprising I guess.”

The short laughter faded into an awkward silence, that was broken by Viktor after some moments. “Yuri suffered a lot”, he began, pain in his voice that Otabek didn’t understand yet. “After they had brought you to the hospital he had a breakdown of some sort. His grandfather called me from the hospital in the morning and told us that there had been an attack, that Yuri was unharmed, but that you… well...” He sighed. “When we came over Yuri didn’t talk, he just sat in the corridor and cried while you were in the E.R. He was devastated, I was so scared, because I had never seen him like that before. We took him to Mr Plisetsky’s place and he slept a whole day, just to wake up and cry again. It was terrible to see him like that. He calmed down after we took him to the hospital again, where they let him see you.” He fell silent, so Yuuri jumped in:

“It was the worst seeing you like that in the hospital bed with all the injuries and tubes and... But they said that you’d live so we had high hopes. We returned to St. Petersburg the next day. After some time they transferred you to Almaty and Yuri came back to St. Petersburg as well. He was still so sad though, wasn’t he Vitya?”

“He was”, the Russian said. “He locked himself up in his room for weeks and didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t come to the rink either of course. Then he disappeared.”

Otabek froze.

“We thought that he had gone back to his grandfather’s place again, right Vitya?”

“He showed up there almost a week later - Mr Plisetsky called us again when he reappeared - but didn’t tell anyone what had happened in the meantime. He quit skating officially and deleted all his social network appearances after a last statement the same day. He wrote that due to personal reasons he couldn’t compete in this year's Worlds and that was it.”

“We never heard of him since then.”

The silence stretched like on the brink of a black hole. Otabek felt like something inside him had turned to stone.

“We tried to get through to him. But the phone number didn’t work after some time. And when we went to where they had lived the apartment was abandoned.” Yuuri sounded apologetic.

Viktor did, too, when he said: “That must be a shock to you. We are so sorry.”

“It is okay”, Otabek answered, his voice betraying him. Of course it was not okay at all, but what was he supposed to say? “I could not have expected everyone to wait for me”, he eventually managed to get out more or less convincing. “Time has changed a lot of things.”

“I’m sorry, Otabek”, Yuuri whispered and the Kazakh could almost see the Japanese man bending in a sincere apology.

“It’s fine, really. Thank you, Yuuri. Both of you, thank you.”

“What are you going to do now?”, Viktor asked after a moment.

The question made Otabek shrug. “I don’t know yet. Maybe I will go back to university.”

“That sounds like a good idea”, Yuuri said.

There was silence and then Viktor said: “I can send you a backup of my contact list, so you can call people.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Silence.

“So, if you want to talk or something...”, Yuuri’s voice had an insecure ring to it.

“Thank you.” He inhaled deeply. “I am sorry, right now it’s all a little too much to swallow. I will have to think about all that, sort things out. I apologize.”

“It’s okay, Otabek.” Now Yuuri seemed to cry again and Otabek could feel why. He felt like it as well. “Just, you know, if we can do something for you, anything...”

“Thanks”, he said. “We will stay in contact.”

“Take care, Otabek”, Viktor said, then they hung up.

He sank onto the low bench. The shock sat deep in his chest. Not only there actually. It filled that space between his heart and his ribs, but it clung to his spine as well and lingered like a pulsing pain in his lower arms and throat. It was hard to breathe. It was hard not to scream in agony.

Yuri was gone. But not only that. He was lost. Like he himself had been for so long, lost in the nothingness, where time didn’t exist, nor pain, nor hope, nor light. Nothing and nothing and Yuri in between.

Otabek felt tears falling on his knees, even through the material of his pants, so heavy were they. The corridor was dim, he could hear his mother work in the kitchen. Outside in the street he heard the sound of the cars passing by, a steady, lowly humming stream of noise, almost harmonic.

He had lost him. After all he had been through, and his parents and his family and every soul on this miserable planet. He had survived. Only to wake up in a world where Yuri didn’t exist anymore. Or maybe did exist but was out of reach and that was maybe even worse.

Memories flooded his mind, like tears flooded his cheeks: Yuri’s long, slender fingers in the fur of his cat, his narrowed eyebrows, his scent, the way he tilted his head to get his long bangs out of his vision. His smile. His eyes. So very green.

He had lost him. Time had taken him from Otabek. The coma had taken him. The guys who had attacked them, sending him to a coma, ruining everything, they had taken Yuri from him.

‘What are you going to do now?’, Viktor’s voice echoed in his head and he grit his teeth. Staring at the old yellowish-gray wallpaper of the hallway he knew now what he was going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000000 Kazakh tenge is approximately 3000 USD. I have no idea how high the costs are for life supporting during a coma or if it's covered by health insurance or if there's a general health insurance in KAZ at all, so please bear with those lovely little plot holes. ^^  
> Also that waiting-one-year custom is totally made up by me. I just wanted Khaligaz to show how much she loves Otabek.  
> Zarina means "golden girl" and also "Queen" (says google)  
> Solnishko is a Russian pet name and means sunshine (says google, too)  
> Shimatta literally translates "It's a bad thing that this happened" and from what I experienced is used a lot more than kuso because it's not that vulgar. Maji means "for real", you hear that a lot too.  
> Also, this story takes place in 2021, I hope they still use smartphones by then XD
> 
> If you have questions, feel free to ask. If you liked it, feel free to review. Also if you think this is crap. I crave for feedback!


	4. Nightfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again and thanks everyone for coming back to MiM! I'm really happy about all the support you guys gave me, be it Kudos or comments or wordless favs, I apppreaciate it a lot!  
> Just so you know, I made some minor mistakes that I have corrected already, namely: the story takes place in 2021, not 2020 as I said before. also I changed the Plisetsky house to be an apartment, because I like the idea of Nikolai in a tiny, charming house, but it doesn't suit the mood of this story like an old apartment does, so I changed that as well (you'll see in the next chapter).  
> So, now that you are up to date, please have fun reading this chapter (and please no jokes about my poor layouting skills, It's been a while since I dropped out of my design career ^^')

His mother yelled at him for the first time in his life.

He sat at the table, his eyes on her, steady, dark, cold, stoic, Otabek. His father looked at him from the opposite side of the table with the exact same expression. There was no comprehension in his stare, no judgment either. Only acceptance for what his mother refused to accept.

“I will not let you leave this house!”, she yelled. Her eyes were wide and shimmered with tears.

“Mother”, he said, calm, but she didn’t listen.

“I will not let you go back to this terrible Russia ever again”, she continued, hysteric. “The last time I let you go there they almost took my boy from me and I will not watch you running into your death, not this time! Don’t look at me like that! Don’t look at me like all you atrocious Altins do!” Tears ran down her cheeks, fell on the table when she shook her head. “In the end you still follow your stupid ideas”, she concluded, her voice becoming low and weak now. “That’s this terrible Altin blood in you. You are so much like your father.” Named man sat beside her, wordless. Another Altin quality: they were silent as graves. “Go then”, she finally said, wiping her eyes with her old, wrinkled fingers. “You will never listen to what your poor mother says after all. You have always been so reticent and shy, but eloquent in all you did. If you think that you need to go back to Russia, then so be it. Just promise that you don’t get in trouble, I wouldn’t survive it. Please remember your poor mother before making decisions.”

“I’ll remember”, he said.

His father gave him the documents that allowed him access to the bank account. “The money came in for your sake”, he explained. “It’s not our right to make use of it.”

Otabek thanked him, but didn’t plan on using any more of the money than absolutely necessary. He had been fine for too long, it was not right to use it. He’d just lend some of it for the time being and when he’d found out where it had come from he’d earn money and pay it all back.

Besides finding out where the money had come from, there were two more tasks on his list: Finding out what had happened back then in Moscow, and finding Yuri. He still didn’t remember anything of the last weeks before his coma. But the answers went hand in hand: If there was anyone who knew what had happened it was Yuri. Or the other way round, if he knew what had happened it would most likely give him an idea what had happened to his friend.

So, later that week he sat in the plane to St. Petersburg. A stewardess had handed him a magazine earlier and he flipped through the pages. With a frown he noticed the short article about the recovery of former world cup medalist and Kazakh hero Otabek Altin. The picture showed him back in the day after he had won bronze in his senior debut and underneath was a text with excerpts of the interview he had given a short time ago.

 

 

 

 

Otabek closed the magazine and stared out of the tiny window. There was nothing to be seen than gray. Spring was rainy and cold this year; he didn’t even remember if spring had ever been anything other than gray. It suited his mood though. He didn’t know what to expect in St. Petersburg. He had never been there before. He didn’t know if there was anything to be found there that would help him figuring out where Yuri had disappeared to. He only knew that it was his only chance.

He had called Mila. The girl had screamed excitedly into her phone for a minute, then without hesitation invited him to St. Petersburg. “I had such a hard crush on you back in the day, but don’t worry, I grew out of it!”, she had explained just as cheerful as she used to be. “Actually I’m with Sala now, Crispino, you remember her? Don’t tell anyone though!” She had chuckled. When he had said that he’d wondered what had happened to Yuri her voice had become serious though. “Yuri, huh? I wonder what he’s doing nowadays. I haven’t heard of him since then… It’s actually a really long story.” She had offered him to tell him everything she remembered and he gladly agreed to come over. It was one first step.

Khaligaz had smiled, when he had explained his plan to her. Zarina had played with his messy hair while he held her on his arm. “Let me give you one advice, my sweet beloved Erasyl,”, the young mother had said softly, “follow your heart; but take your brain with you.” He loved her like a sister, so he nodded and placed a kiss on Zarina’s nose who chuckled high as a chime.

He arrived in St. Petersburg in the early afternoon. It was cold like in winter, but the already setting sun gave the City of Tsars a clear, beautiful look, like from a fairytale. Otabek wrote Mila when he had checked in in the small but clean hotel she had recommended. He had declined her offer to stay in her apartment, he didn’t know how long he would stay and he hated the idea of invading her private space. He was an Altin after all, with all the advantages but with all the disadvantages as well. He still had a hard time getting close to people. So he had thought that he’d rather stay in a hotel that was not too expensive but gave him room to think as well.

The amount of money on the bank account was a little more than eight and a half million tenge, even after he had bought the ticket for the plane and booked and paid the hotel for a week. It had shocked him when he had taken the first look at the bank book what showed such an enormous amount. The lady that had lined up behind him at the ATM had sighed annoyed and it had brought him back to reality. With a murmured apology he had made way and left the bank, feeling dizzy.

Otabek didn’t even make the effort to unpack his luggage. He had been sitting on the bed motionless for what felt like half an hour, his hands on his knees, his face expressionless, his eyes on the windowpane more than on the darkening sky beyond it., when it knocked on the door.

Mila still had the red curly bob that suited her so well. “It’s good to see you”, she said, hugging him tightly and the sudden closeness upset him, but he didn’t let it show but hugged her back awkwardly instead. When she let go of him again she smiled. “You grew! I have to look up now!” She chuckled and let him lead her inside.

“I came here often when I had to sneak out to meet Sala”, she said walking around in the room. She let her fingertips run along the edge of the small desk. “Well, not that exact room, but they all look the same here. I’m glad I can take her to my apartment instead now, although this hotel brings back some wild memories.” With a bright smile she turned to look at Otabek who still stood by the door. “At least I can say for sure that the mattresses are super comfy here.” Tilting her head she looked at him and her expression became serious. Heading over to the bed she sat down and patted the blanket next to her. He took the invitation and sat down although it made him feel uncomfortable.

“You’re still as stiff as ever”, she murmured, then slipped out of her burgundy high heels and folded her legs, repositioning to face him. “But it’s different now. Your presence. You feel grown up. And stronger. Not the insecure boy from back then who hid behind his frown.” Tilting her head she scrutinized his face. He could feel her gaze following the scars, one after the other. “Look what they did to you”, she murmured. “You had such a handsome face. But you know what, they didn’t ruin it. You’re still as handsome. In a different way. In a whole different way. They couldn’t break you. And now you have these scars and they are a greater achievement than any medal you could ever win.” He looked at her and she looked back at him with a tiny smile. “You survived, Otabek. I’m so glad.”

Falling night bathed the room in blues and blacks as silence spread between them. It wasn’t dark enough to switch on the lamp, but they had mere minutes before it would become awkward not to. In the twilight Mila said:

“We all missed you. Really, we all did. But I’m sure you can guess who suffered the most.”

Of course he could.

“You were his first friend. His _only_ friend, although I had always tried to be there for him. I was too young back then though. I couldn’t handle his pain, his grief, his despair. It would have hurt myself. We were all so helpless. When he went back to his grandfather’s place, we were relieved to be honest. He hadn’t come back to the rink by then, had hidden in his room. Lilia said that he didn’t talk to her, not even through the locked door. She heard him cry day and night. On some days he’d eat half of the food she placed in front of his door, on some days he didn’t touch it. And then, one day, he was gone. We all panicked, tried to find out where he had gone, but his phone was unavailable and no one seemed to have seen him. Just when Yakov had decided to go to the police he showed up at his grandfather’s place. He released a last statement on his VK and instagram the same day and then he was gone.” She sighed. “I tried to call him. Tried to text him, again and again. He was my baby brother after all, my precious little tiger. But after two months or something I realized that he hadn’t just disappeared. He had left everything behind on purpose. Not for the attention. He’s not like Viktor. I think he just wanted to forget. His old life, us, his pain. And I accepted it. I think I… I think I understand him. So I let him be.” She smiled at him. “He didn’t do it to hurt anyone”, she explained and it all made sense to Otabek. “He did it so it’d stop hurting.”

It made sense to Otabek. But the pain in his heart was unbearable nevertheless.

He escorted Mila to her car.

“If I can do something for you, let me know”, she offered and hugged him after his affirmative nod. “You’ll find your place, Otabek. You’re strong, even without Yuri.”

“Thank you”, he murmured. He watched the taillight of her car fade in with St. Petersburg’s traffic.

His jaws hurt from all the clenching. He was _nothing_ without Yuri.

**о**

His clothes were black and white. All of them. Black pants, black socks, black boxers, back sweaters, white button-down shirts, white undershirts, white t-shirts and some black ones. Black boots, a black suit coat, a black belt. Black scarf, black leather jacket. Even his wristwatch was black. The inside of his suitcase looked like he had come to St. Petersburg for a funeral, or many. But it was all he needed.

He couldn’t stand colors anymore. When he had been shopping with Khaligaz she had brought him colors at first, but he had refused to try them. It just didn’t feel appropriate to dress in bright green and red and blue. He needed things in order. His wardrobe, his suitcase, his life.

He started to limit things. The colors of his clothes. The things he drank (water and black tea and black coffee). The things he ate (everything he needed to keep his body as healthy as possible, but no treats, no snacks, no fuss). He started smoking to keep himself busy, to distract himself from how little progress he achieved, but stopped again after only two days because it brought him even more on the edge.

Besides the things Mila had told him there was not much information provided by anyone. He learned from Lilia that Yuri had taken his cat with him, but she didn’t know anything else. Yakov had been urged to give a lot of statements to the press repesentatives who wondered where the young prodigy had disappeared to and why. He was just as clueless as anyone else. He went to see Georgi who almost started crying when Otabek asked him about Yuri, but who couldn’t help him. He followed the invitation of Yuuri and Viktor who he spent an evening with in the warmth and light of their life full of love and it reminded him of his own loneliness.

They all offered him their help. But pitiful smiles and clueless sighs and warm embraces didn’t help him at all, as much as it hurt to realize.

He left St. Petersburg on the fifth day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Mila endlessly! She is so sweet and gentle and sensitive and still she has no idea how much Otabek really suffers. Poor boy!  
> Also my lovely sprout said that I should tag all the characters showing up in here, even if they won't show up a lot. So, don't be disappointed if they only have minor roles orz  
> Please review and let me know your opinion on this chapter!


	5. Khrushchyovka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sad. Just so you know ^^'  
> Also I don't speak ANY Russian at all, so if you do and find that I'm making a fool of myself please forgive me orz  
> Btw I decided on updating Sundays from now on, please stop by if you like ^^

 

Idly sitting on the train for hours was unnerving. After a while he got up and walked up and down the aisle, but never too far from his luggage on top of the overhead compartment. This was Russia after all, you could never know what kind of gopniks would be interested in the black suitcase while he wasn’t around.

Moscow was way colder than St. Petersburg, not only temperature-wise. The people were dismissive as well. He felt like everyone threw cold glances at him, that was _if_ someone even bothered to notice him as he stepped out of the station and onto the chilly street. A woman ran into him because she was too focused on her smartphone and hissed an insult at him, walking away hastily.

He arrived at the hotel he had called last night to book a room half an hour later. It was cheaper than the one he had stayed at by the advice of Mila and way sleazier. He felt out of place in his black pants and white shirt under the leather jacket and looked around trying to hide his discomfort while the girl at the counter fed his personal data to the computer.

“If it’s your first time in Moscow,”, she said looking up at him, clearly intimidated by his appearance, “I can give you guidance on the nightlife.”

“It is certainly not”, he replied with stern face, then held out his hand for the key. It was up in the room when he realized that she likely had offered to give him _personal_ guidance and he felt a little bad for being so rude.

Like in St. Petersburg he didn’t unpack his suitcase here either. The room was tiny and old but at least the sheets were clean. He sat down on the bed and stared at the wall with his hands on his knees to get his thoughts in order. Victor had given him the address of the old Plisetsky residence but had supposed that there was nothing – nobody – to be found there. He would go there nevertheless, it was the only hint he had. He didn’t know anyone in Moscow. Well, maybe _one_ person. Just in case Yuri was still here. There were so many possibilities on what had happened to his friend after all, three years were such a long time. Maybe Yuri wasn’t even here anym-

A phone call interrupted his thought and he fished his phone out of the inside pocket of the jacket he still wore.

He took the call from an unknown number with a neutral “Yes”.

There was a moment of silence, then a very familiar voice said: “It’s true after all, I read it online and double-checked from Viktor that you’re back among the living, bro.” Unmistakably Jean-Jacques Leroy. “Could’ve called me, y’know, we’re family after all. How’s it going?”

“Fine”, he said.

“Still very talkative, I see.” JJ laughed confidently. “What’re you up to, heard you’re on a little journée in Mother Russia. Chasing after your golden princess I guess?”

Otabek frowned. “Did Viktor tell you that?”

Again JJ laughed. “No, I’m Watson, you know? Wasn’t too hard to guess, too. When kitty decided to disappear back then I already thought that you wouldn’t like it. He should’ve asked me, I had told him it’s a bad idea. So, any progress? He was kinda thorough back then I heard.”

Sighing Otabek leaned forward and supported his upper body on the elbows on his knees. “Not in St. Petersburg. I just arrived in Moscow, but the only thing I have is the old address where he lived with his grandfather. I hope there’s someone there who knows something.”

A low, unusually pondering hum came from the other end of the line. “Not to make you feel down, dude, but have you ever had the thought that he did that on purpose? Disappearing I mean. And doesn’t want to be found.”

“Of course I have”, Otabek answered quickly. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s important for me to find him, because… because...”

“I know why”, JJ said when Otabek fell silent. His voice was low and understanding, showing that side of him that only few people knew existed. “Maybe you could shroud it from anyone else, but seriously Beks, I was there when you fell for the boy, no need to hide that from me. I just want you to know that there might be a reason for him to break all bonds. Just keep that in mind as you continue your search, okay? I don’t want to see you on your knees if you don’t find him. Yuri has always been very diligent, you know what I mean. If he wanted to start a new life, he must’ve been very careful about it. Just saying.”

Otabek didn’t reply anything, but of course JJ was right. If Yuri hadn’t been careless at some point there was no way that Otabek would find him. It was almost hopeless already, he didn’t know what to do if there was no hint at the old apartment. He’d just have to try and see and if there was nothing he’d think about what to do afterwards when the time came. But now he needed to focus and clutch at that straw.

“Hey”, JJ said. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed, bro, you know that, right? I’m on your side. I wish I could do more for you than just getting on your nerves, but that’s what I do best after all.” He laughed and Otabek felt himself smile.

“I’m counting on you when it comes to that”, he murmured.

“If you have time come over and visit”, JJ offered out of context. “Me and Izzy have twins now, you know. Mireille-Marie and Line-Louise, adorable little princesses, and Izzy is pregnant with a boy. She wants to name him Jérôme-Julien, JJ the Second, wouldn’t that be cool? Anyway, don’t hesitate to get back to me, homie, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing”, Otabek said. “Send your family my greetings.”

JJ groaned. “T’as le balai dans le cule, dude, seriously. Take care, Beks, I’ll kick your ass if you don’t.”

When JJ hung up Otabek sighed in relief. It had been exhausting to listen to the man talking. But it had felt good as well. Familiar, homey even. Also that someone else knew about his feelings, about the urge he felt to find Yuri, it gave him a feeling of approval. He knew he was going this way all by himself. But he also knew now that there were still people thinking of him rather than just see him off without knowing why he did so.

Otabek straightened his shoulders and got up from the bed. He had no time to waste. It was just after noon and he had this one trace after all. He’d not let it wait.

**С**

The complex, like the surrounding buildings as well, was five stories high, gray, old and an absolute nightmare. It was exactly like all the so called khrushchyovka, cheap apartment buildings that had been built overnight in huge numbers half a century ago and that were home to a large amount of Moscow’s population still nowadays. Even from a distance the thought that Yuri had grown up here sent shivers down Otabek’s spine. As he walked closer a few clouds drifted over the sun, making the light dim and hueless. It was like someone had faded out all the colors from the world to emphasize the hopelessness that was the only thing that flourished in places like these.

“Hey, brother, do you have a cig?”

He looked the way the voice had come from and spotted a group of five kids, ages varying from what looked like 10 up to 16. They lingered close to a tree with only few leaves that topped off the bleak area like it had been specifically cultured to make one feel depressed.

“No, I quit”, he gave back with a shrug.

“Yeah, sure, loser”, the boy who had spoken before spat, making the girl next to him hiss: “Vitaly, shut up, he’ll kick your ass.”

The boy snorted and they all watched him pass by in the distance wordlessly.

There was a guard office in the house, but the man inside there didn’t act like he cared about the security in the building at all. When Otabek approached the counter he was merely half-awake, his feet on the table, a horse race running on the small TV next to them; close-by a few empty plastic beer bottles.

“I am sorry to interrupt your business”, Otabek said and tried not to sound too offensive. “I am a friend of the family who used to live in apartment 424.”

The man grunted. “424 you say? Are you here to clean the place up?”, he asked with a grumpy face. “About time. There hasn’t been anybody in there for an eternity. No one but rats I s’ppose.” He sat up and coughed like he smoked two packs a day.

“No, I’m actually investigating the whereabouts of the former residents”, he replied as neutral as possible.

“Oh, you’re from the police?” The man rose his thick, gray eyebrows, but seemed to be willing to cooperate a little more than before, so Otabek went with that.

“I am looking for them”, he explained vaguely. He _had_ said that he was a friend of the family, but obviously he looked and acted like someone who the guard would provide information to, so he didn’t clear up the misunderstanding.

“Well, in that case I can let you in the apartment”, the old man said, suddenly eager and reaching out for a key ring. “I have the master keys right here, but I haven’t been in there since the plumber was here to check the pipes last winter.” He got up and whistled and only now Otabek caught sight of the old dachshund that had dozed off in the far back of the guard office and got up slowly to follow it’s master out of the cabin.

“You know”, he went on as Otabek followed him up the dirty stairs, “I always thought that there was something strange going on up there. They have lived there when I took the job, when was that again? Let me think, that must have been 1987, the year after Chernobyl happened. We had a really cold winter then, you know, Officer. The windowpanes were freezing from both sides and they found frozen corpses everyday, it wasn’t even surprising anymore when they said it on the radio.

Well, anyway, they lived up there already, the old man and his son and later his wife as well. She was a pretty little thing but the alcohol got her after her husband died, you know. She didn’t last long and then it was only the old man and the small boy.”

He paused after the second flight of stairs and breathed hard, the dachshund beside him. “You have to excuse an old man’s weak lungs, Officer, I ran that in a minute when I was your age. How old are you, 25, 30? Anyway”, he continued after some moments and started to climb the stairs at a slower pace now, “at some point the boy moved away and left only the old man behind. I always wondered how he afforded the place. I think he was a… shoemaker, yes he was. He mended the shoes of the people in the house after he dropped out of work. You know, Officer, he was a good man, but not a rich one. And then one day they bought the apartment.”

He turned around to give Otabek a meaningful nod. “Not to suspect anyone, but if the boy goes away and then a lot of money comes in, that makes people think. But I am not interested in the backstories of anyone here, I was just thinking that something strange might have been going on. You know, that was… Let me think, that was 2015, the year after that Ukraine issue, it was a hard time for everyone. We had so much trouble back then, sugar was so expensive, the bakers couldn’t bake cakes and sweets anymore but of course you remember that. Anyway, he somehow had enough money to buy the apartment, I didn’t ask how because that’s really none of my business. And here we are already.”

Already – it had taken three times as long as if Otabek had gone up here by himself, but the information was kind of welcome. He hadn’t known that Nikolai Plisetsky was a shoemaker. Yuri had talked a lot about his grandfather back in the days but the only thing Otabek had known so far Nikolai Plisetsky could make were his famous pirozhki.

The corridor was dim and smelled weirdly. On both sides doors lined the walls with so little space in between that Otabek could only guess that the apartments behind them were tiny. As they passed along the old metal doors he could hear the lives going on in the flats: TVs running, babies crying, a man and a woman having an argument, someone whistling an old folk song that Otabek hadn’t heard in a decade, but couldn’t quite remember in detail. All in all it was depressing, like everything here seemed to be. The old guard led the way reading out the numbers on the doors, the dog and Otabek following him in silence.

“20, 22, 24, there you go.”

The door was a dark green, like all the others, but the peep hole was sealed with duct tape.

“Don’t expect anything other than dust in there, Officer”, the guard said, fumbling with the keys on the ring. He found the correct key after a few moments and unlocked the door. “I’ll let you do your work now, let me know when you leave so I can lock the door again.”

“Thank you”, Otabek said and waited until the old man and the dog disappeared down the hallway and into the staircase. Then he placed his hand on the handle and with a deep breath pressed the door open.

The hinges made a sound as if he had stepped on a rat. Cold air greeted him, a strange smell, like cold dust and loneliness, twilight. He stepped inside, the small dark hairs on his arms standing upright under his clothes.

He had been here before. He didn’t remember exactly, but the narrow corridor with low ceiling and the brown worn-out carpet, the old slightly skew shelf with shoes and shopping bags and a wicker basket that was filled with leaflets and brochures, it felt kind of familiar. Behind him the door fell shut with a metallic noise that made him startle. He used the light switch, and the overhead lamp came to life, but with a thin sound the bulb blew and he found himself back in the half-darkness again.

Slowly he started walking down the short corridor. The first door on the left was the bathroom, he was sure, so he didn’t look inside. A few steps later there was a door on the right, the kitchen. He peeked inside in the twilight, but didn’t enter the room. It was small and crammed, the equipment outdated for decades already. He felt he remembered being in there, but it was blurry. At the same time he felt the urge to walk down the corridor further. It was like a string attached to his chest pulling him forward.

The room in the far back was Nikolai Plisetsky’s. He switched the light on that endured this time to see a narrow bed with a blue and green knitted bedspread that seemed to be handmade. The wardrobe next to it looked like was as old as the whole building, leaning against the wall like a hoary grandma about to collapse. Everything looked old and worn-out but kept in order despite the clearly visible signs of aging. Dust had covered everything like time had let it snow onto the room to slowly made it fade away in hues of gray.

Otabek roamed the room slowly, taking in the silent witnesses of the past. The old carpet swallowed the sound of his footsteps as he walked. In a box he spotted shoemaker’s equipment. A line of potted plants on the windowsill had withered away a long time ago, the stems now brown finger bones sticking up in the air like they were pointing at the curtain. The TV was a tube, small, with a small crochet tablecloth on it and a framed monochrome photo: Nikolai and his bride, smiling towards the camera in what Otabek guessed was 1960’s wedding fashion. In the shelf with the TV on top was a video tape recorder along with tapes, thoroughly lined up and labeled “Yuri Nationals 2014”, “Yuri Grand Prix Juniors 2014”, “Yuri Nationals 2015”, “Yuri World Cup Juniors 2015”, “Yuri Grand Prix Juniors 2015”, “Yuri Nationals & World Cup Juniors 2016”, “Yuri Grand Prix Seniors 2016 1/2”, “Yuri Grand Prix Seniors 2016 2/2 & Nationals 2017”.

Otabek stared at the tapes. There should be a “Yuri World Cup Seniors 2017” as well, his friend had skated there and taken silver outscored by a few points by Viktor who had made his comeback in that competition. He bent over and pushed the lid of the video tape recorder open. The missing tape sat in there like a rodent in his hole staring at him.

Straightening up Otabek looked around. There were many picture frames on the wooden cabinet, but Otabek noticed that some of them were empty. He walked over there and soon realized that there were photos of Yuri at different ages but none of him and his grandfather together. He had a feeling that there had been some. Yuri must have taken them when he had disappeared.

When he turned around he found himself facing another door. For some reason he knew without a doubt that it led to Yuri’s room and it only enhanced his impression that he had been here before.

His heart was beating heavy in his chest when he made his way over to the closed door. He noticed that his fingers were trembling when he pressed the handle down and opened the door slowly. It was dark in there. Switching on the light chaos awaited him.

He remembered the room immediately. But not like that. Back then it had been a small bedsit, crammed with animal print, Yuri’s extravagant fashion and band posters. Now it looked like a pack of wild animals had been let loose in the room.

The wardrobe had been ripped open forcefully, one door only hanging from one hinge, the contents spilled on the floor. The large mirror next to the door was shattered, the fragments partially still hanging in the frame, but a lot of them mingling with the clothes on the floor. Otabek spotted Yuri’s laptop on the desk, the screen broken and the keyboard taken apart, cables hanging out like ripped out insides. Above the bed the wallpaper had been ripped from the walls, the windowpane was covered with some of the wallpaper and newspapers and what seemed to be pages of Russian textbooks. A drawer had been ripped out of the desk and thrown into the corner of the room, stationary spreading around it like a puddle of lifeblood. The office chair laid on his back, the books and colorful brick-a-brack on the small shelf a turmoil.

All in all it was complete chaos. Shocked Otabek looked around. (Suddenly he had a flashback: Yuri is sitting on his bed in a loose T-Shirt, his hair a mess shining like white gold under the overhead light, his feet bruised. There’s a wide smile on his face and he picks up one of the pirozhki from the plate he placed on his crossed legs. “If Lilia finds out I eat that in the middle of the night she’ll kill me”, he grins and takes a bite. His eyes close with relish. Then he looks over to Otabek who stands by the door. “Come here, I have two for each of us.” His eyes glitter with joy and Otabek’s insides tense because he’s so in love with this beautiful boy.)

A deep sob shook Otabek’s body and he found himself still by the door, but back in the reality, gray and cold and exasperating. He rose his hands but didn’t feel tears on his cheeks. The dry sob still hurt in his throat and in his heart. He felt helpless, but refused to start crying. Instead he stared at the bed where Yui had appeared to him just a moment ago, only to leave him with his heart aching like hell.

It was strange to find that in all the chaos the room had become, the bed was still neatly made. It looked so out of place that it caught Otabek’s attention in the weirdest way. But it wasn’t only the fact that the violet sheets were in perfect order. What stood out was the box in the middle of the smoothly spread blanket.

It was an old shoe box, big, like it had contained boots or something similar. He scrutinized it when he came over to the bed. The outer layer had been peeled off thoroughly, leaving only the light brown cardboard. On the lid Otabek found a drawing: a bear, a teddy to be precise, like the ones he had had as a mascot back in the days. He felt like his heart stopped beating. Sitting down on the bed he picked up the box to place it on his lap. With a deep breath he lifted the lid to see what it contained.

Letters.

Otabek stared at the sheets of paper inside the box. It took him a moment until he was able to concentrate on the first line of the letter on top, but when he read it he immediately felt tears burning in his eyes.

 

_Dear Otabek,_

 

Yuri’s handwriting was small and unskilled, like he hadn’t written with a pen in a while.

 

_I’m scared. I hope you’ll never have to read those. But I’m scared. I’m so scared. I need you. Please don’t leave me alone. I need you here. Don’t leave me don’t leave me i’m so scared please Otabek you idiot Otabek please Otabek i miss you so much_

 

The paper was uneven where tears had fallen on it. Otabek’s heart broke.

The next letter was similar.

 

_Dear Otabek,_

_I can’t stop crying. Will I ever stop crying? Everyone’s so worried about me and I want to scream at them to leave me alone The only one I need is you   no one else! Why can’t they leave me alone when all i want is to have you back Why does this happen to us   why is it us     what have we done? i just want you back   i’m so scared it drives me crazy please Otabek dont leave me_

 

The next one was longer.

 

_Dear Otabek,_

_I don’t know why I am doing this. When you wake up I’ll never show you those letters, EVER! I’m so ridiculous, I know I’m making a fool of myself but I need to get it out somehow. So I thought instead of screaming at everyone who comes near me and scream at night when I feel so alone and cry all day that I can get it out if I write it down._

_I’m scared. But not just scared. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. Everything hurts. Especially my eyes and my heart. What if I lose you? I can’t stand the thought. They said that you will live and then they told me that you are in a coma and no one knows what’s going to happen? How am i supposed to live like that? i need you and i miss you so much, i miss you endlessly and every time i think of you i feel so guilty and i think of you ALL THE TIME!!! what if you die what if you leave me   i cant be without you Otabek    i dont want to!! please dont die please please please i need you and i need to tell you that i m sorry and i just want you back so you can smile at me    all i want is to see you smile once more    i would do anything    please dont leave me alone_

 

Otabek’s tears fell on the paper. He placed the letters he had already read on the lid of the box on the blanket next to him, then took another one.

 

_Dear Otabek,_

_it was the worst seeing you like that. It haunts me. Your handsome face so pale. I have nightmares now. Your mother said they brought you home so they could be there for you. She is so worried and still so calm. When she saw me she recognized me immediately I think. She wasn’t happy that I was there but I couldn’t stay in St. Petersburg. Everyone tried to cheer me up but I don’t want them to, I just can’t stand it. I needed to see you, I think I had died if I hadn’t seen you. Your mother said that it’s important that you are at home and I think in the end that convinced me to go back to Moscow. She’s right, home is a good place. So I came here after I left you. I think it is hard for your parents. Your father is very calm. Actually he looks a lot like you and it made me cry so much. He is a wonderful person I think, just like you are. I miss you so much. It’s still like a horrible nightmare that I can’t just call you in the middle of the night like I used to. I still have your birthday present as well. I want to give it to you as soon as possible. Please, Otabek, get well soon. There’s nothing I wish more for._

 

The next page only had three different words on it, _i miss you_ again and again, but there was a drawing as well. Otabek hadn’t known that Yuri had that talent, but the rough sketch impressed him. It showed the head of a bear, small but detailed, drawn over the countless repetitions of the three words. He traced the lines with his trembling fingers. “I miss you too”, he whispered, then took the next letter.

 

 _Grampa knew it.,_ it read without a greeting. _I was crying the other day, like I do every day and every night. I don’t think that I can ever do anything but cry. He came to my room and sat down next to me on the mattress where I had curled up into a ball because the more uncomfortable I am the less I blame myself, not that I ever feel better than horrible. I know how you feel! he said, because I lost my son. You know he has never talked about my father NEVER but he petted my hair like he did when I was small. It made me cry even more, but he didn’t stop and said We all go through the darkness sometimes but it is only dark as we don’t recognize the light. That boy is dear to you I know and you are dear to him and thats why you can’t give up because you can not forget how to smile because when he wakes up you need to smile for him.    I didn’t really know what he meant by that and tbh I don’t feel like smiling at all. But he somehow knew what was going on between us although I was so careful when you were here. Maybe it’s because he was so old and of course he knew me so well. i couldn’t tell him tho. So after i lost you without knowing whats going on i lost him as well without knowing whats going on. how am i so stupid? maybe its better that i am all alone now i’m just not capable of having people with me    normal people with normal feelings     because it looks like all i can feel is anger and pain and loneliness and guilt guilt guilt i can never tell him that its all my fault but i m so sorry Otabek i m so sorry if i could have them take my life to save yours      if there was a way i d die for you     i d die in your place    you didn t deserve that    you deserve to live    you have to live and smile and be happy even if it is without me i m so sorry_

 

_My dear Otabek,_

_it would be so nice if I could write you that I feel better, but I don’t. The funeral was horrible. I didn’t know any of the people there, they just walked up to me and shook my hand and they all were strangers to me. I didn’t care for Grampa enough, I know that now but as usual I realized when it was already too late. That seems to be my specialty._

_I gave suicide a good thought. I lost everything. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I felt that there was nothing left but me and my pain. Everything hurts and everything is cold. The only thing that’s warm is my memories and they feel like I’m cutting myself with knives. So I thought that I could as well end it. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that you wouldn’t want that. You are in that situation now because of me and the least I can do is wait for you and apologize. It’s hard to keep the hope alive though. Everyday I wake up and think that today might be the day when you wake up. But it could be the other around as well. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up and you have died in the night. I’m so scared of that. I’m really so scared. What would i do if you didn’t wake up again? i think so much about that. and what would i do if you did wake up? would i know? would someone tell me? it s so hard to live with that fear, day in day out it hurts so much. it hurts so much thinking of you, your smile, your eyes  your voice    your warmth   i need you Otabek you are the only one who can keep me from going crazy   i had no idea what madness was  i was so stupid   and now i know    and i can t stop it   i just can wait and wait and wait for you to wake up and save me again like i ve always just waited for you to save me   i m not a soldier Otabek   i m not   i m just yuri    yuri without his grampa and without everything and without you   i ll never give up hope that you ll wake up again you are so strong way stronger than i   i m so weak and i feel so broken without you_

 

_My dear Otabek,_

_I left the flat today. It was the first time after days and it was sunny and warm. The summer is so nice in Moscow, I’ll show you some day. There was a cat outside and I tried to pet it but it ran away. That was strange, but maybe it had a bad day I think. I realized that I’m a little like that cat maybe, sometimes I just can’t have anyone around me. But you would be okay, of course._

_When you wake up you can come here in summer. I have the flat for myself now, so we could live here together. I dream a lot about that although it’s probably just to distract me from the thought that it’s only me now. I’ve been by myself for more than a month now. It still hurts a lot, but I think I’m getting used to it. I’m not one for socializing, as you now, unlike other people. I’m fine by myself. I draw a little here and there and play with Boginya_ (Yuri’s cat, Otabek remembered) _, but I don’t need many people. I know you understand that, you are like that as well, right? It’s not even hard to be away from my social media. I think I missed a lot of things when I was busy there, things that I notice and realize now. Like the sunshine outside. And the warmth._

_I think a lot about you these days._

 

_Otabek i m sorry   i m sorry   i need you with me   i just need you    i miss you so much    i miss you   i miss you   i m sorry_

 

_Dear Otabek._

_I can’t take it anymore. Boginya died this morning. I’m alone now. Everyone around me dies, first you and then Grampa and now Boginya. Am I cursed? I still refuse to believe that you will die. Your mother said that they are keeping you alive as long as they can. But what if they decide it’s enough? It’s been almost a year now. They say that every day that passes when you don’t wake up decreases the chance that you will wake up ever again!!! WHAT IF SHE DECIDES THAT ITS ENOUGH?  I CANT LIVE WITHOUT YOU! I TRIED AND I JUST CANT AND YOU ARE NOT EVEN DEAD    HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE THIS LIFE WHEN EVEN YOU LEAVE ME   I NEED YOU I need you i need you i need you Otabek you are the only one i have   its always been you   its always only been you    i can t lose you as well. i ll do anything for you    you are the reason why i still live and if you die i ll die with you and i m with you where ever you are and i want you to remember that wherever you are that i am with you    i want you to think “where ever i am Yuri is with me” please Otabek i am so sorry please forgive me please don t remember me as the boy who got you killed, please, remember me as the boy who took you to that backstreet because he wanted to be close to you. Yuri will always remember you Otabek, forever. Because you are everything to me and you saved me so many times and I can never tell you, but please remember Yuri as well, because he has always been yours_

 

The last sheet was another drawing. It showed a tiger and bear, the tiger walking towards the upper end of the paper looking to the right to where the bear was walking towards the lower end of the paper. Their bodies were brushing up against each other lightly and Otabek sobbed. Tiger and bear - Yuri and Otabek. The drawing blurred before his eyes, tears falling onto his wrists and suddenly he remembered the song he had heard someone whistling in the hallway earlier and it made him cry even more.

 

_Apples and pears were blossoming_

_And mist was floating on the river_

_When Katyusha walked down_

_The steep river bank_

 

_Walking down there she sang a song_

_About the gray steppe eagle_

_And about her loved one_

_Whose letters she had kept._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't translate the lyrics of Katyusha myself, but altered the ones I found online so it goes well with the flow of the story. I love the song so much that I even learned it by heart in Russian ^^  
> Usually I hate JJ btw, but Otabek needs a little support here, so I had him show up and I really love how he turned out. ^^  
> Also "I miss you/I need you with me" is written Мне тебя не хватает, four words as you can see, but I wrote three because it would have been confusing otherwise.  
> Please let my know if/how you liked the chapter. I hope you all cried in the end ;D  
> c u next week <3


	6. Snowfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks everyone for feedback and support! I love every notification about comments and kudos and faves! They make me dance ^^

He took the box with him. It didn’t contain only the letters and drawings now. After Otabek had cried for some time, sobbing into the silence of the abandoned apartment, he had gotten up with more determination than ever before. He wanted to find Yuri. He needed to. He would never give up. 

But before leaving he walked around the apartment once more. He wanted to fill the box with things - important things. He took the white tiger plush doll from Yuri’s bed. Yuri had told him the story of how his grandfather had bought it for the first birthday that Yuri had celebrated after moving in with him. It was strange enough that his friend had left such a treasure behind, but it added up to the impression that Yuri had abandoned everything that had been essential to him. It hurt in Otabek’s chest to realize that fact. He also took one of the photos of Yuri he had seen in Nikolai’s room. It showed the blonde boy in front of the entrance of the Gorki amusement park with the brightest smile. His hair was shoulder length already, he must have been 15 or 16. After pondering Otabek decided to take it out of the frame. That way he could keep it close to him in his purse. In the kitchen he found an old handwritten notebook with recipes, among them a pirozhki recipe. It was stained and tattered, showing that it had been used many, many times. He also took a mug with a stylized illustration of an angora cat. He had a feeling he had seen the thing before, it seemed familiar. From the bathroom he took the hairbrush with some long blonde hair in it. The shimmer of the gold threads almost made him burst into tears again. 

A look in the mirror showed him his reddened eyes in a face full of scars. Inhaling shakily he ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the scar on his scalp. “I will find you”, he whispered. A broken man stared back at him from the mirror and he turned away.

Otabek had no hope that Yuri would ever come back to this place. JJ had been right, Yuri was a thorough person. Nevertheless he wrote a little note and placed it on the bed, where the box had sat. It had only four words:  _ I miss you too _ . Then his name.

He left the apartment without a look back.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”, the guard asked when Otabek came to the counter and the Kazakh shook his head.

“Thank you for your cooperation”, Otabek said and turned to leave. 

Behind him the guard called “Anytime, Officer”, then the door fell shut.

It was dark and cold outside. The kids still lurked around the tree, joking and yelling, their breaths visible as white clouds in the freezing air. When they caught sight of him again they fell silent. After a moment the girl who had scolded her friend earlier disengaged from the group and came over to where he was walking.

“Hey”, she said when she was only a few steps away.

Otabek threw her a glance and kept walking. She looked like 15 or 16 with short curly auburn hair that bobbed up and down with every step she took.

“Sorry about earlier, Vitaly is a jerk, he didn’t want to insult you, he’s just like that.”

Otabek didn’t answer, half hoping she’d give up whatever her purpose was, but of course it wasn’t that easy.

“Do you live here?”, she kept asking. Her voice was high but melodic. “I’ve never seen you around here before. And I’m sure I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

Otabek kept silent. He had an idea now where this was going.

“You’re quiet”, she chuckled. “I like that in a guy. Do you think we could go have a coffee or something one day?”

Otabek‘s frown deepened when he shot her another glance. “How old are you?”

“14”, she said with a smile that he would have considered cute ten years ago. Now he found it disgusting.

“Go and play with your dolls”, he said and turned away.

The girl stood and as he walked away he heard her friends howl like a pack of wolves and a “Well, fuck yourself, shithead!”

He came to think that he disliked Moscow and possibly everybody who inhabited it.

On the taxi ride home he stared out of the window. He had no idea what to do next. His hopes to discover something that gave him a hint towards what had happened to Yuri had been futile. The realization hurt so much that he bent over and felt like screaming in agony, but he straightened his shoulders and focused on the houses rolling by, trying to ignore the pain. The only thing he could do was going through the letters again and hope that he had just overlooked something. Maybe if he was thorough enough he’d discover something. He decided that writing down his thoughts might help him as well.

He got off the taxi close to the hotel when he spotted a small stationary shop. As he walked in a small bell rang above the door. The shop was old, dusty and looked unprofitable. It likely was owned and run by the old man behind the counter whose skin looked thin as paper and therefore suited the shop perfectly.

Otabek picked out a notebook. It was small enough to fit in the inside pocket of his jacket, black with 48 blank white pages. He walked over to the shelf with the fountain pens thinking that a refillable pen was the best option when someone bumped into him. A strange sound was audible, like hailstones on a window pane.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”, someone said and Otabek turned to spot a young man bending over to collect the felt tips in various shades of blue and green that he had dropped. “I didn’t pay attention.”

“Don’t worry.” Otabek bent down to help picking up the pens.

“I’m so stupid”, the young man gibbered. “I should have taken a basket. I really didn’t think that so many new shades came in.”

When Otabek handed the seven or eight pens over he looked at the other for the first time. He was around his age, maybe a bit younger, with tousled reddish blonde hair, fair skin and a lot of light brown freckles. In his attractive face sat glasses with a brazen frame that had almost the same color as his hair. His eyes were a light blue, sparkling keen-witted when he looked up to Otabek. “Thank you”, he said with a smile and a light blush. It reminded Otabek of Yuuri Katsuki in its honesty.

They unbent and Otabek turned towards the shelf again, when the young man spoke again. 

“Those are very good”, he said and gestured towards a box on the shelf that held elegant black fountain pens with his chin as his hands were occupied with holding his felt tips. “You can fill them with china ink instead of cartridges and the tip runs very smooth even on abrasive papers.” 

Otabek took one of those out of the small box as well as one of the small bottles of black ink next to it. “Thank you.”

“Did you draw that?” The redhead asked, looking at the box that Otabek held with his left. “It’s really elaborate.”

“No”, Otabek said. “A friend of mine made that.”

“Oh”, the other said. “It’s really nice. He sure has talent. Drawing fur is so hard, especially on this kind of material. Has he drawn for a long time? It looks like he practiced a lot.”

Otabek looked down on the box. “I don’t know”, he then confessed slowly. “I didn’t even know he had that talent.” He inhaled shakily, feeling tears burning in his eyes when he murmured: “I should have known though. I should have known so much more about him.”

Blue eyes narrowed with concern. “Is he alright?”

Otabek shrugged. “I hope so.” Closing his eyes he swallowed the tears. A mental breakdown in a stationary shop was the last thing he needed right now.

“Are  _ you _ alright?”, the other asked. “Sorry if I brought something bad up now. You look like you suffer a lot thinking of him. You are very close for sure.”

Otabek nodded. He didn’t even know why he told that stranger all that. But then he remembered when he had talked to JJ earlier and how good it had felt to open up to someone even if it was only a little. Maybe he had kept it inside for too long. Maybe he craved for a little relief unwittingly.

“Your boyfriend?”, a low voiced question came.

Otabek didn’t know how to answer that, so he nodded, but shook his head right afterwards. “We never made it that far”, he explained frowning. He watched the pale hands of the young man tighten around the bunch of felt tips and straightened up. “It doesn’t matter”, he said, his voice low. “He’s gone now.” He’d figure out how to find him when he was at the hotel. For now he just needed to make it out of the shop without bursting into tears.

“If you…”, the redhead said hesitantly, “well, if you need someone to talk about it… or someone to distract you from… him…” He blushed slightly. “I… I could give you my info and you could drop me a line…” With a low chuckle he hunched his shoulders.

A frown showed on Otabek’s face as he thought about it. Maybe the idea wasn’t too bad. He didn’t know anyone in Moscow and he had not much to do until he figured out what his next step would be. And maybe talking would help him. Maybe it would put him in another perspective to explain it to someone, maybe he would see things differently or notice details he had not seen before.

“Okay.”

The blue eyes lit up. “Really? Cool!”, the redhead said. He pulled off the cap of a dark blue felt tip and had Otabek open the black note book. Holding the other pens against his chest he wrote down a URL in a nice, artistic handwriting. “I don’t have VK, but this will do. You can write me a message if you like. My name’s Dimitrij, but Dima is fine as well.” He wrote the nickname down as well. The pen smelled like alcohol. With a smile he looked up and put the cap back on the felt tip.

“Thank you”, Otabek said, closing the book. “For the recommendation as well”, he then added holding up the pen and Dima smiled. His cheeks were a little pink now, but Otabek didn’t even give it a second thought but turned around to go and pay.

Later, when he closed the door of his hotel room behind him, he came to think that not exactly everybody in Moscow was dislikable.

**к**

In the evening Otabek went to get some take-out from the chinese place down the street. He had tried to get his thoughts in order without much of a result other than the conclusion that he was helpless. He still hadn’t gone through the letters once more, he didn’t know if he could stand that pain again. He had cried so much today and needed to replenish a little before he could approach the task of analyzing the letters sober and factually. Just in case he was capable of doing that at all. 

After filling the pen with ink he had placed the stationary on the small desk in his room, next to the box he designated as the treasure box for now. It would wait for him there, like a monument reminding him of his duty. Only once had he opened the box to take out the photo and store it away in his purse, then he had closed it again without paying it more attention. The mere thought that maybe it contained the last things he’d ever get a hold of, that he’d ever know about Yuri felt like he got stabbed again, but in his chest this time.

Otabek knew that it wasn’t healthy what he was doing. If his mother knew what was going on she would be very angry at him and disappointed. She had wanted him to promise that he didn’t get himself in trouble and he knew that she meant a situation that would possibly threaten his life like the previous time that he had gone to Russia, and he’d try his best to avoid that. But in fact the constant pain and despair he felt was worse for him than any physical damage he could take. While he had sat on the bed after coming back to his room he realized that everything inside him hurt, but unlike an injury there was nothing he could do about that. No pain killer, no anesthetic could make this pain go away. The one sole thing that could cure him was finding Yuri. He didn’t even think about what he would do if he couldn’t find his friend. Giving up wasn’t an option. His mental health, no, his life depended on it. Even if he’d have to search the whole world for him - he needed to find him. He was going to find him eventually (he made desperate efforts to believe that ).

The air was chill outside. No wonder, it was the 25th of February and winter still held Moscow in it’s freezing grasp. He had decided to wear his scarf, tugged his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Tomorrow he would go and buy gloves as well. At least it didn’t snow at the moment, but it was still far below zero. Luckily the restaurant was only a few hundred meters down the street. He had seen it on his way from the shop earlier and remembered it when the angry growling of his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since this morning.

The name was Tsing-Tao. He suspected that at least 30 percent of all Chinese restaurants were called Tsing-Tao, along with Beijing and Shanghai, if he didn’t count Hongkong in. The place wasn’t very busy so that when he entered and the door fell shut behind him an elderly lady immediately greeted him from behind the counter.

“Eat in or take out?”, she asked with a friendly smile and he answered the latter. She gave him the menu-pamphlet printed on light blue paper and he read over the many small lines. It took him only seconds to decide on tofu in soy sauce with vegetables and rice. He didn’t really care what he ate to be honest, he just wanted to make his stomach be quiet. When he had ordered the lady offered him to sit down at one of the empty tables near the door for the time being and he did so, staring out of the large front window, but not seeing anything.

Someone whistled a song in the kitchen and the melody as well as the sound of the pots and sizzling oil was soothing somehow. It reminded Otabek of his childhood when Khaligaz and Belek and him had spent their summer breaks cycling over to Lake Sairan to watch Belek steering his model motorboat on the greenish water. When they’d get hungry they would walk over to the small Chinese diner and share a dish of fried noodles or chicken in peanut sauce. Eventually Belek managed to sink the boat though, receiving a serious scold from Otabek’s uncle. Otabek remembered that he had found it unfair back then, because Belek was so sad about losing his boat that he had not deserved to be chided for it on top of everything. He wondered if the boat was still there, somewhere on the bottom of the lake.

When it started to snow outside Otabek came to his senses again, catching himself smiling absentmindedly. The snowflakes were big and resembled feathers wafting down from the sky. It was beautiful to look at, but made him feel melancholic at the same time. It was a strange feeling to know that he would leave the restaurant again soon, the place having given him a warm memory of his childhood with the serene whistling and the kitchen sounds, only to release him into the cold of the city that had taken everything from him.

When the lady called him over to the counter to pick up his order with a cheerful “Sir, your meal is ready” he got up with a sigh.

It was the moment that he set the chair in order again when he caught sight of someone outside. It was a man, about 30, accompanied by three other guys. He wore a woolen hat and a dark blue coat as well as fingerless gloves, a cigarette hanging from his rubbery lips. He wore no scarf and that exact detail made Otabek’s breath catch in his throat and his head spin, because only for that reason he could see the tattoo that decorated the neck of the guy: A stylized eagle holding a diamond and above it the word  _ brotherhood _ in bold Cyrillic letters.

Otabek’s heart stopped beating when the memories flooded his mind: A dark backstreet, Yuri’s green eyes wide with fear, someone holding him by the throat, a big, raw hand with a tattoo of an eagle holding a diamond, wrapped around Yuri’s white, delicate, fragile windpipe and endless, burning rage in his chest.

“Sir? Your order...”, the lady repeated, her voice showing a slight ring of worry, but Otabek didn’t hear it. His fingers clung on the wooden chair painfully, his knuckles white.

“Yuri”, he whispered, trying to fight back the streaks of black that crept into his field of vision. He had tried to protect him, he remembered now. He had tried to save him. And he had failed. Memories flickered before his eyes, like a movie fast forward. This guy with the tattoo on his hand, the pain of the punches, the pain of the kick in his knee pit, the pain of the knife, Yuri calling his name, Yuri screaming, Yuri crying, a sound more painful than any punch and any stab.

“Yuri”, he whispered again and the sound brought him back. When he shot a glance at the window the group was long gone.

“You okay?”, the Chinese lady asked concerned and he looked up.

“Yes.” He straightened up and finally walked over to the counter. When he took the plastic bag the lady smiled at him reassuringly and he nodded in response before leaving the restaurant without another word.

Snowflakes sank down on him like feathers made of cold. Tears he hadn’t even realized were falling from his eyes felt freezing on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Otabek! I'm a bad person making him cry so much. Please forgive me orz


	7. Erasyl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, sorry I'm late!! orz  
> Just one short note: татуировка means tattoo ^^

Chapter 6: Erasyl

 

He had the breakdown in his room. The door fell shut behind him and he sank onto his knees on the old carpet, sobbing noisily. The plastic bag rustled in his lap when he bent forward. It felt like someone grabbed his collarbone and pulled it down towards his hips, everything in between a scorching, burning, bleeding mess of flesh and hopelessness.

It was his fault. Everything was still an incoherent string of memories flashing before his eyes, blurring into a painful chaos. But one thing stood out before everything else: it was entirely his fault. He had tried to protect Yuri. He had tried his best. But it had not been enough. Too weak, he had been too weak. Too weak to save Yuri, too weak to save himself. Just a worthless piece of simplicity and foolishness. Not even able to protect the one person who meant the world to him. He had lost him, right there, not after Yuri had disappeared almost a year later. He had failed him in this dark street, in a place where he couldn’t imagine what brought them there. He had left Yuri behind, beaten up, bleeding on the ground. He had left Yuri behind, letting him be the witness of his greatest failure.

“Yuri”, he sobbed, pressing his palms against his eyes painfully. “I am sorry.”

Otabek had thought a lot about his feelings in the past. The first emotion he had ever noticed to be unusual for him was admiration, all the way back when he had laid eyes on Yuri for the very first time. He had never before admired someone. Sure, he looked up to people, his father, his coach, some of the skaters at his rink, but it had never been such an overwhelming feeling of both awe and respect. Yuri had made him feel that way when they had been children and from that one moment on, that moment that had changed Otabek’s life, he had stirred up the calm and silent surface of his soul.

The second emotion Otabek had noticed was one he had ignored for a very long time until it jumped on him like a grown up monster with bare teeth and claws: a desperate longing. He had kept the memory of the pretty blonde boy he had seen years ago deep inside, had it locked away like a treasure, but it had grown into something so much more drastic that he had pushed it away until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He looked up Yuri and fell into a deep tiger-striped hole full of pictures and videos, routines, interviews, salchows and scowls. He noticed that he had a crush on the still pretty but not very fairy-like blonde boy who had grown into a teenager by that time. There was nothing he could do about that, so he silently accepted these feelings.

From that point on everything happened really fast: affection in Barcelona, friendship and trust, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips a lot more often than ever before. Then, like a sprout raising it’s small green head out of dark soil, love. He had accepted that as well, the fact that it was more than a teenage-crush, something strong, something urgent. He wanted to be with Yuri, more and more. They had spent time together after Barcelona, a week here and there and the better he got to know Yuri and the better Yuri got to know him the more he wanted this wonderful boy to smile for him, until the wonderful boy had become an even more wonderful young man.

Sometimes loving was painful. When Otabek was back home in Almaty and Yuri was so far away in St. Petersburg, ending their long skype calls with a “Good night, Otabek” in his low, deep voice when the sky over the Kazakh mountains had turned from black to a soft blue already but the stars still glittering in the distance. Then, when it was suddenly silent in his small apartment, only the crows outside making the first noises of the breaking day, then he felt really, really lonely. Laying down on his bed he stared at the ceiling and wished nothing more than having Yuri beside him.

The longing had never stopped. But something added to it.

He felt guilty now. He had been too greedy. He should have appreciated Yuri more. Appreciate his mere existence, the possibility to write him a silly text and receive an answer right away because Yuri had set a special notification sound for Otabek ( _ The sun rises already. You would like the view _ ., he writes and a minute later the reply comes:  _ i make you show me one day! now let me sleep as long as it’s still dark here ;D night Otabek, i miss u.  _ Otabek stares at the display and the love he feels is so overwhelming that he could cry any moment now if he wasn’t so composed). He had taken all that for granted. Now he’d give all he had just to know if Yuri was still alive, still out there, somewhere, if he only knew that he was well. Maybe it had been better if he had died back then. Being alive was so painful and those were the latest feelings Yuri had given him: Pain, despair, sadness, guilt.

The note on Yuri’s bed came to his mind as he knelt there on the floor in the deep shadows of the room, crying, and the drawing of the bear on the small sheet of paper that sat in the box now. “I miss you too”, he whispered, again and again. “I miss you too”, until there were no tears left to cry in the end.

His legs went numb and his eyes burnt. The tears had dried a long time ago when Otabek eventually got up. His body moved although he didn’t feel like moving at all. He’d be fine sitting on the worn out carpet forever until he turned to dust and disappear in the wind. At least the pain would go away then. But instead the rational part of him took action, reminding him of the least he needed to do to stay alive.  _ Breathe, eat, breathe more _ . His heart beat heavily in his chest. His lashes drifted shut and open again automatically. His eyebrows narrowed in his regular frown. He chewed, swallowed, didn’t taste anything but didn’t stop until the styrofoam box was empty, casting a deep shadow in the light of the desk lamp he unconsciously had switched on. The box found its way into the trash bin alongside the wooden chopsticks, the plastic bag and the napkins. When he was finished eating he didn’t even remember having eaten at all. 

He sat there in silence for some moments, then opened the little notebook he had bought with the intention to write down what he had thought of in the past few hours. He found himself staring at the blue characters instead. Dima’s homepage. He flipped the page and wrote down the only clue he had found today.

 

         татуировка

 

The word sat on the page like an accusation. “Is that all you have?”, it seemed to ask him, the letter o a questioningly rounded mouth. “After all you have nothing but the vague memory of a guy with a tattoo that is similar to one some random stranger passing by a chinese restaurant had? Are you even sure it is the same tattoo? How likely is that? And even if it is, what does it mean? What are you going to do with that? What does it help you? You have no idea what to do now. All you can do is cry and feel guilty, but that will not help you. So what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know”, he answered and stared at the word, but it didn’t say anything else.

“I’m going crazy”, Otabek realized, whispering into the small pool of light the flickering desk lamp provided.

His eyes wandered to the left side of the book. The alcohol marker showed through the paper only the slightest. With a sigh Otabek opened the first page again and looked at the URL, but it remained as silent as the other word.

After some more minutes of quiet staring and no better idea he took his phone from his pocket and typed in the URL. The window took a moment, then showed a website in pale blues and greens. “Dima draws” it said. Than a short introduction saying that Dima was a 20 year old art student from Nishni Novgorod who had come to Moscow for his studies. There were several drawings, digital and physical, his contact information such as email address and links to several other pages as well as a small window that showed that Dima was streaming right now. A click redirected Otabek to a streaming site. When he tossed the smartphone sidewards he could see the display of Dimas desktop and a sidebar that showed comments from the audience. The number in the right top corner indicated that he was one of 93 viewers.

“...but actually I like dogs more”, Dima’s voice was to be heard mid-sentence, “I’m really not a cat person. I used to draw our dog a lot when I was a child, so I’m kind of good at drawing dogs by now.” He laughed and it sounded a little embarrassed. The picture showed a table with a steaming cup of coffee and a folded newspaper. The half-eaten croissant as well as the plate it was on was still uncolored. At the moment Dima was coloring the fur of the tabby cat sitting at the edge of the table looking down on the floor. The picture looked like it was almost finished. “On the other hand”, Dima continued, “I’m always glad if I have the opportunity to practise things I’m still bad at, so when the request for this artwork came in I was intimidated and glad at the same time.” He laughed lowly. Otabek remembered his smile from earlier that day. “ _ What breed was it? _ ”, Dima read a comment out loud that obviously referred to the dog. “It was a beagle. That was really convenient, because if you gave him a treat he would sit still waiting for more, so I could draw him easily.” He chuckled again. “They say that beagles are very passionate for food but ours was especially fond of any kind of treat. He’d wait for hours if he knew you had something in your pocket.” 

There was silence for a few seconds, then Dima said: “Actually drawing fur is still giving me a hard time sometimes. Like, natural fur is okay, but for example artificial fur… That’s really hard to do. Today, when I went to buy the new copics I mentioned last time on stream… They had a lot more shades of blue than I expected, so I bought some additional ones. I’ll try them tomorrow, do you remember the project I mentioned some time ago I have to do for environment design class? I really am excited for it now that I have so many awesome hues, so I can really go for the underwater scene I was talking about last time. I’ll post some pictures of the work in progress on my page, so you guys can check it out. Anyway, when I was in the shop there was this super bad ass looking guy coming in, like, for real, he looked like an actor or something, he was, like,  _ so _ attractive!” Otabek grimaced. “But in a really cool, dark, bad ass way. Anyway, he had a box with a pencil design on it, and it looked so out of place in a way, because it was a really, really cute teddy.” He chuckled again. “But the thing is, the fur, like, the plush fur looked really good. If any of you have ever drawn on cardboard you know what I mean when I say that it’s really a pain in the ass drawing on cardboard. You really have to pay attention to not pierce the first layer with the lead. That happens to me aaaall the time, it really drives me crazy when that happens. And the drawing that guy had was really cool, but I couldn’t see it clearly, but I really wanted to see it, so I bumped into him and dropped my copics, like,  _ totally _ on purpose.” He laughed and Otabek sighed. Dima clearly hadn’t expected him to watch his stream, as he added “I hope he doesn’t watch now!” with another chuckle.

“Anyway, he did turn around and I could see the drawing more clearly. It was really cute and well-done, but as we talked a little it turned out that he didn’t do it himself but a friend of his. It was kind of relieving though, like, he looked like a model, all with black hair and a white shirt and the rest all black, more like a secret agent or a spy or something, but really cool and the bear was so outstanding, you know, so out-of-place-cute. _ If he was so good-looking, did you _ … No, NicoRobin27, I didn’t ask for his phone number, I actually even forgot to ask for his name. That’s, like,  _ so _ me!” 

Dima laughed again, finished the cat and zoomed in to the croissant, giving it a warm, light yellow color that made it look fresh and soft. “I love croissants”, he chattered on, “because we had them every morning when we went to France for the summer vacation. My sister ate the ones that are filled with chocolate, but I prefer the ones with only butter. There is a very good French pâtisserie near the campus, but I rarely go there, because I don’t want to ruin that feeling I get when I have croissants, although they are really good there. But the taste is something that reminds me so much of my childhood I don’t want it to become too normal. You know what I mean?”

Otabek’s back hurt and he went over to the bed, to lay down for a second and relax while watching Dima finishing the picture.

“So I only buy them after friday’s classes, so I can have them for breakfast on saturdays. I usually skype with my parents back home of with my sister who lives in Bangkok now. It’s still a family breakfast in a way, you see. Actually, when I have breakfast here in Moscow my sister is preparing lunch already-”

 

**о**

 

When Otabek woke up the next morning his phone had died overnight and he was still in his clothes. The sun was rising in the east, coloring the sky a light lilac, the thin streaks of cloud glowing orange.

He got up and undressed, showered, then dressed again, in a button down shirt, suit pants and jacket, all black. His phone was fully charged by now, so he went to grab some coffee and sitting down in the run down café rented a motorcycle on the internet. It was available from 9 o’clock, so he decided to walk to the shop instead of taking a taxi to kill the time.

The moment he had opened his eyes it had been so clear to him, he had immediately known what he needed to do. If he wanted to find out what that tattoo was about he had to find someone who was familiar with the art. He had bookmarked the addresses of all tattoo studios he had dug up using his browser’s search engine. In order to get there he had come to the conclusion that it would be most comfortable to have a bike available.

The ride he had rented was a black Ducati Monster S4Rs. The low sound of the engine almost made him smile as well as the ringing of the clutch when out of gear. He was provided with a helmet and gloves as well, his leather jacket secure enough as long as he stayed in the streets of the city and not accelerating over the limit. He had a hard time keeping the purpose of the measure in mind as it felt really good to be on two wheels again. He forced himself to focus though. He had not rented the bike for fun, but because he had business to do. Still, the light tickle at the back of his chest didn’t fade away for some time while he slipped through between the cars in the busy streets of the Russian metropolis. Once in a while someone would scrutinize him on the motorbike when he was waiting at a red light, and the looks often followed his motion when the light turned green and he set off with a deep growl of the engine.

His enthusiasm had eventually died down in the afternoon though when he left another tattoo parlour.

“Never heard of something like that”, the guy had said and his colleague shrugged. “I’m more for portraits anyway, animals are not my style.” 

Otabek had heard many, many answer like that today, but there had been some suspicious ones as well, the staff exchanging glances before answering “We can’t help you with that, please leave” or something along those lines. Otabek had a feeling that those people had known exactly what design he had referred to meant but he had no idea why no one would tell him about it. 

With a sigh he got on the bike again and kicked in the gap to head over to a shop more towards the end of his list, trying not to lose hope.

Coming to a halt a few minutes later the first thing he noticed was the cage in the shop’s window. As he got off the Ducati and headed towards the door he spotted a few small, fluffy rabbits in the cage, sleeping in the dim light of the afternoon. 

A bell rang when he entered and the brunette woman behind the counter looked up. “Hey, hello, come in!”, she said cheerily and gave him a smile. She seemed to be in her mid twenties, tall and slender with a sidecut above her left ear. “How can I help you?”

Otabek closed the door carefully so the rabbits wouldn’t wake up. 

It made the woman laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, they are used to the sound of the door by now, they don’t wake up that easily.” 

Otabek nodded and gave the small animals, a caramel colored one, a black one and a white one with black ears, a last look, then he turned to the counter again.

“I require information”, he said and she still smiled, but it died down when he explained: “I need to know anything about a tattoo I saw on someone, but no one I asked so far was able or willing to provide me with the information I hoped to find.” 

She frowned. “Are you from the police or something?”

Otabek shook his head. “I am not. Still I would appreciate if you could help me out. I’ve been driving around in all Moscow today but couldn’t find out anything.”

“What tattoo is it? Do you have a picture of it?”

“Unfortunately not”, Otabek said with a sigh. “I can describe it though, it is a very simple but unique design. It shows a stylized eagle from the front, holding or sitting on a diamond or any other jewel in such a cut. Above the eagle’s head is the word brotherhood -  братство - in bold cyrillic letters. ”

In the middle of the description the woman’s eyes widened. When he finished she got up from the chair she had sat on and looked at him coldly. “I have never seen such a tattoo”, she said. It was so obvious that it was a lie and Otabek frowned.

“Please”, he said. “I need to know what it means.” His voice was low and strained. It felt horrible to see that she clearly knew what he was asking for but that he’d likely not get the information that was so valuable to him. Again. “Please”, he begged finally. “I need to know.” His hands clenched into fists.

Something in the woman’s eyes changed and she tilted her head. “You really don’t know what it means”, she realized and he nodded, gritting his teeth. 

She came out from behind the counter and walked towards the door. Otabek half expected that she’d throw him out bare handed, but instead she locked the door and turned the sign attached to the pane so that it said “Closed”. Then she let down the shutters of both windows and the door so that no one could look into the shop, then turned to face him.

“If you try something funny I’ll cut your throat open”, she said and gestured towards the seats surrounding a small coffee table that was littered with tattoo magazines and folders holding flashes and designs as well as an ashtray in the shape of a human skull. Otabek sat down, a little intimidated by the harshness of the threat, but at the same time he was glad that after hours of let-downs someone would finally talk to him.

The woman sat down on the opposite side of the low table and looked at him like measuring him up for a moment, then guessed: “You are not from here.”

“I’m from Almaty, Kazakhstan”, he replied and she nodded.

“Listen”, she said in a low voice: “What you are doing is way more dangerous than you might imagine. Running around cluelessly asking for stuff like that. I don’t know what you have to do with them, but you draw way too much attention.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one she offered Otabek the pack, but he declined. “Consider yourself lucky that I was here today. I wouldn’t let a babe like you walk into a fucking bear trap.” She inhaled the smoke and exhaled it through her nose after a moment. “That tattoo you are talking about… It’s the crest of the Orlov bratva, a powerful clan that rules the entire Moscow underground. And if I say powerful I mean you really don’t want to fuck with those guys unless you have nothing to lose but your miserable life.” She gave him a stern look, then asked: “What interest do you have in them?”

Otabek swallowed the knot in his throat, then explained: “Three and a half years ago me and my friend were attacked by a gang here in Moscow. My friend remained unharmed but I fell into a coma for almost three years. I lost my memory of what happened. Only yesterday I saw someone with that tattoo again and recalled that one of the attackers from back then had it on his hand as well. I didn’t know it was some kind of organisation. I only wanted to know what happened in that night. I only want to know who attacked us and ruined everything. That’s all.”

The woman looked at him with narrowed slim eyebrows. She was pretty with her long wavy hair that fell over her right shoulder. She had a tiny golden ring decorating the wing of her nose and a tattoo of a lily on the left side of her throat. Her eyes were a light blue under long black lashes. She wore a band shirt with cut off sleeves and skinny blue jeans that went well with her bright red high heels. “Why didn’t you ask your friend who was with you?”

“He disappeared while I was in the coma.”

With a pondering hum she shed the ash from the tip of the cigarette into the skull. “And you are not planning on taking bloody revenge or something crazy?”

Otabek shrugged. “I don’t know yet”, he replied veraciously, making her grimace.

“You really shouldn’t”, she said, shaking her head. “I can’t emphasize it enough, those people are no fun to deal with. Their ‘authority’, that means their head, is very likely the most powerful man in all Moscow. This world is not an action movie not a novel, there’s no chance you’ll get away with your life if you plan on something stupid. Do me favor and keep that in mind. What’s your name?”

“Otabek Altin”, he said. For some reason she rolled her eyes.

“You’re way too naive, dumbass”, she judged him with another frown. “Don’t tell anyone your real name, now I know all I needed to know to find your family and kill everyone you hold dear, and you don’t even know my name yet. So, again, what’s your name?”

Otabek looked over to the cage with the rabbits. The black one had woken up and moved over to the bowl, chewing on a lettuce leaf.

“Erasyl”, he said slowly. His eyes wandered back to the woman who nodded contently.

“Nice to meet you, Erasyl”, she said, smiling again. “I’m Nadja. You can call me Nad if you like. Now let me tell you a little more about the Orlov bratva.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, all the people who suspected this fanfiction to be a Mafia AU were right ^^ I'll wait till next week before I add the tag tho so noone gets spoiled.  
> Also Nad is just one more person to say out lout that Otabek is fucking attractive ;D  
> I hope you liked it <3


	8. Truth - Lie - Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late, I hope you guys aren't angry, I just couldn't make it in time. It won't happen again, I promise!!!!! ToT

Otabek learned a lot about the Orlov bratva on this day.

Their leader was Anatolij Orlov, a man in his mid 60s who had been born and raised in Pokrovsk, southern from Yakutsk. After the perestroika had failed he had come to Moscow and became the right hand of his uncle, who seized the chance and bought a lot of real estate related companies and land in the unsteady times. The uncle, Anton Tarassov, was a so called thief in law, a vor vzakone, who was respected among the people in Moscow who he provided with secure jobs and a privately funded welfare system before the new administration could even bother to take measurements. His earnings and the way he handled problems made him an important figure at the ending 20th century and soon Orlov followed in his footsteps. Of course the methods they chose were mostly illegal but the purpose was not of an evil quality so no one regarded the Tarassov-Orlov clan a criminal organization.

After some decades of adapting to the new and different Russia Tarassov retired from his position and moved to Israel, making way for his enthusiastic nephew. Orlov managed to let the bratva grow in members, financial value and influence within years. Now it had its fingers in almost every pie from the justice department to the ministry of transport and regional development. They owned not only most of the outskirts where the Khrushchyovka had been planted like a field of gray sunflowers, but also a lot of establishments downtown such as apartment buildings, amusement businesses and so on. Orlov himself was said to be decent and staid, a true vor like they had become very rare in the past decades. Nowadays the clan and the related organization acted mostly as a krusha, a kind of guarding organization that tried to keep Moscow a mostly peaceful place by handling criminal gangs and intruding organizations so the people could run their businesses without worrying about raids, larceny and protection rackets.

“Actually what they do is not very different from what the literal mafia does, but they do it with the approval of the people, so it’s more or less okay”, Nad explained and took a sip from her tea. She had prepared a pot after learning that Otabek had absolutely no idea about those things. He had apologized, but she had only smiled and shrugged. Now the pot was almost empty. “Humans get used to things really fast”, she continued, “and the feeling of insecurity makes them handle things on a whole other level. Times are hard, even now, so if they can pay the protection money and run their businesses in peace, that’s what they choose. It’s better than coming home from the grocery store and see your shop burning.” She shrugged. “Not that I need someone to protect me myself. I have the rabbits after all.” Otabek’s frown made her laugh. “That’s probably the only thing more effective than paying the bratva to keep an eye on the house. No one knowingly burns down a house with three adorable little rabbits in it, right?”

Otabek looked over to the cage. All three of them had woken up by now, idly scampering from here to there, nibbling on vegetables and grains. “Do they have names?”, he asked as Nad lit her third cigarette.

“The white one is Merlin, the Black one Isary and the brown one Fjodor. They are cousins.”

Otabek watched the small animals for a while and Nad sat in silence as well for some minutes before asking: “So, what are your plans now?”

Not looking at her Otabek replied: “I don’t know yet. You say that the tattoo is the symbol of the bratva. So the group that attacked us was affiliated with that clan one way or the other. I don’t know how high the chances are that I will ever find the ones who did all that to me. To us. And even if I find them I don’t know what will happen. Maybe I can regain my memory. Maybe not. It comes randomly and I don’t know how it is triggered. There is no guarantee that it will bring back more details. But it is the only thing I have. So I will put everything I have in it. Otherwise there’s not hope for me.” He turned his head to look at Nad and saw her nodding her head.

“I can not even judge you for thinking that way”, she said, slowly, like she was still thinking about her words. “To be honest I can not imagine what it is like if a part of your memory is so blurry that you can’t make sense of it. So if this is what you are going to do…” She stubbed out her cigarette. “In that case you need all the help you can possibly get. Do you have someone to help you out with the formalities?”

Not entirely sure what formalities she was referring to Otabek shook his head. Because the truth was that he had no one to help him with anything. It was him and only him.

“In that case you are really lucky that I’m not a bad person and that I know some people who can help you.” She paused a little, like to let her words sink in. “You need new papers. You can not risk to be caught with all your lawful information. It does not only put you in danger but everyone you hold dear as well. Your friends, your family. So you need a new ID card, passport, bank account, new papers for everything basically. You need a secure place to live, one that is not easy to find but easy enough to access. Also you should train in melee combat and shooting. Just in case, you’re not John Wick, but you should to be able to defend yourself. You need a weapon as well. Knives are good, guns are better. Moscow is no sandbox, you need to be prepared for everything. Also you need to find a way to get into the bratva. You can’t act from the outside. You have to infiltrate it. You have to become a part of the system to freely move in it. And once you are in there there is no easy way of backing out. It’s all or nothing. Are you willing to do that?”

Otabek nodded, but Nad asked again: “Are you absolutely and a hundred percent sure that you want to do that? I can only warn you, once you made that step it is as good as impossible go back. Do you want to risk everything you have?”

Otabek looked back at her with severe expression, then said: “There is nothing to risk for they already have taken everything from me.”

Nad sighed, then nodded. “Okay. Okay, Erasyl. Just promise me to not get you into trouble. I wouldn’t want a babe like you to get harmed.” She grinned mischievously. “Although those scars look hot on you.” She winked.

 

**в**

 

Back in his room Otabek thought about the things Nad had told him. It was a shock to hear what huge a clan hid behind a symbol as common as the tattoo he had seen twice in his life now. He most likely had not given it any second thought if not for the flashback yesterday. The fact that he had to rely on mere luck now gave him nausea. This was not how he had expected his trip to Moscow to go. But life was not a fairytale after all and he had learned that the hard way many times already. He adapted by making the most out of every little chance he got and this was no exception.

Nad had asked him to come again the day after tomorrow. She would ask her acquaintances about helping him out. He was thankful, but didn’t ask why she knew people who had the ability to counterfeit documents and official papers.

He wrote down what he had learned today in the notebook. Also what he had come up with during the ride home: it was too late in the day already to do it right away, but he had thought of going to the police station tomorrow to check if they had any records about the attack three and a half years ago. As long as he still acted as Otabek Altin and not as Erasyl Ten, the name he had suggested to Nad and that would show up in his new papers, he would try to find out if there was anything that would complete the blurry memories he had of the incident.

For now there was not much he could do about it though. All he had left was either roaming the darkening streets or sitting in his room, thinking. Thinking was painful, but it had to be done eventually. Even realizing that he was at a dead end in his search for Yuri was necessary somehow. It hurt so much though.

The box sat on the desk staring at him reproachfully. He stared back for a moment, then opened it with a sigh. Avoiding it didn’t help him, so he took out the letters carefully, piling them up one after the other.

The first one read: _Dear Otabek,_ _I’m scared. I hope you’ll never have to read those. But I’m scared. I’m so scared. I need you. Please don’t leave me alone. I need you here. Don’t leave me don’t leave me i’m so scared please Otabek you idiot Otabek please Otabek i miss you so much_

He read it, one, twice, three times. The words felt so honest and all he could think was that he wished he had never been in the situation to read those letters either. And that he missed Yuri, too. That he was scared as well. So much, so much! The way Yuri’s handwriting became jittery gave reading the few words another aspect of despair. How must Yuri have felt when he had written this letter? Otabek couldn’t imagine. The tears that had made the paper contract forming small waves gave him an idea though.

The second letter emphasized the impression. _Dear Otabek, I can’t stop crying. Will I ever stop crying? Everyone’s so worried about me and I want to scream at them to leave me alone The only one I need is you   no one else! Why can’t they leave me alone when all i want is to have you back Why does this happen to us   why is it us     what have we done? i just want you back   i’m so scared it drives me crazy please Otabek dont leave me_

He read this letter multiple times, too. The _everyone_ Yuri mentioned in this one were most likely the people back in St. Petersburg, his coaches, his rinkmates, his friends, and of course his grandfather. When Otabek had talked to him they had mentioned how Yuri had refused any help, any comfort. How he had locked up in his room, not talking, not even eating. The only thing he had done was crying, so they had said. Yuri, of all people, who had always tried so hard not to let his emotional weakness show, who had hidden behind anger and insults, being noisy and mean. Except when he was with Otabek. The Kazakh had rarely experienced Yuri’s aggressive side. The fairy had thoroughly divided who he was showing which side of his self. Otabek had been blessed with gentleness and smiles, soft green eyes, often glittering with wit or joy and sometimes sad and insecure. For Otabek those moments had all been equally precious. He was glad that he was allowed to see behind Yuri’s icy façade. He often had wished that Yuri would open up to other people as well, that he’d see that it was not a bad thing to show his feelings, even his insecurities, even sadness, even weakness. So in the end he had. In the most heartbreaking way, forced to scream his despair in everyone’s faces because there was nothing else left about Yuri Plisetsky at that time. It gave Otabek goosebumps. And to think that he was the cause for all of this, that he was the reason why Yuri had suffered so much- He didn’t finish the thought. It wasn’t his fault. He was the reason, yes, but he had never wanted that. He had never wanted Yuri to feel so terrible because of him. All he had wanted was to make Yuri smile a little more. Turned out he had unintentionally done the exact opposite.

_Dear Otabek, I don’t know why I am doing this. When you wake up I’ll never show you those letters, EVER! I’m so ridiculous, I know I’m making a fool of myself but I need to get it out somehow. So I thought instead of screaming at everyone who comes near me and scream at night when I feel so alone and cry all day that I can get it out if I write it down._

_I’m scared. But not just scared. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. Everything hurts. Especially my eyes and my heart. What if I lose you? I can’t stand the thought. They said that you will live and then they told me that you are in a coma and no one knows what’s going to happen? How am i supposed to live like that? i need you and i miss you so much, i miss you endlessly and every time i think of you i feel so guilty and i think of you ALL THE TIME!!! what if you die what if you leave me   i cant be without you Otabek    i dont want to!! please dont die please please please i need you and i need to tell you that i m sorry and i just want you back so you can smile at me    all i want is to see you smile once more    i would do anything    please dont leave me alone_

Otabek’s eyes followed the lines written in black ballpen. The beginning of the letter had been written very thoroughly, like Yuri had intended to write as neatly as possible. The wording seemed well-chosen as well. He had likely given his first sentences a lot of thought. But soon the writing and the words became just as impulsive as in the letters before. No wonder when he had suffered so much. The way he described how he thought of Otabek so much made him swallow. He wondered when the letter had been written. Yuri mentioned that he yelled at people, so it must have been at Lilia’s place, he would not yell at his grandfather, would he. So it was still in that short time span before he had disappeared for almost a week and then shown up in Moscow again. The fact that he still didn’t know what had happened in the meantime bothered Otabek a lot. How was it possible that a 16 year old heartbroken boy disappeared without anyone spotting him somewhere? He had been gone for several days, at least that was what he had heard from Viktor during his first call. Lilia had described it that way as well. Where would Yuri go in his state, crying day and night, not eating, taking his cat with him? He had intended to never come back to St. Petersburg, otherwise he would have left the cat there, Otabek thought. It was all very odd and he couldn’t imagine how worried everyone had been.

 _Dear Otabek,_ the next letter read, _it was the worst seeing you like that. It haunts me. Your handsome face so pale. I have nightmares now. Your mother said they brought you home so they could be there for you._

Otabek frowned and read the line once more. The tense was weird here, like Yuri had talked to his mother after they had taken him to the hospital in Almaty already. He read the sentence a third time, but that didn’t make it less awkward. Maybe Yuri had called his mother? But when he had asked her about Yuri she had answered that they had never heard of Yuri after he had been at his side in Moscow right after the incident. Maybe Yuri had just mixed up something there, so Otabek, still frowning, kept reading:

_She is so worried and still so calm. When she saw me she recognized me immediately I think._

Otabek’s frown deepened. He hadn’t noticed how strange this part sounded when he had read the letter for the first time.

_She wasn’t happy that I was there but I couldn’t stay in St. Petersburg. Everyone tried to cheer me up but I don’t want them to, I just can’t stand it._

Otabek grit his teeth while reading. He had a really bad feeling now.

_I needed to see you, I think I had died if I hadn’t seen you. Your mother said that it’s important that you are at home and I think in the end that convinced me to go back to Moscow._

Despite the very sad words that made Otabek’s insides feel like they turned to ice he couldn’t help but think that maybe it wasn’t Yuri’s letter who sounded awkward. And it wasn’t Otabek who misinterpreted something here.

_She’s right, home is a good place. So I came here after I left you. I think it is hard for your parents. Your father is very calm. Actually he looks a lot like you and it made me cry so much. He is a wonderful person I think, just like you are. I miss you so much. It’s still like a horrible nightmare that I can’t just call you in the middle of the night like I used to. I still have your birthday present as well. I want to give it to you as soon as possible. Please, Otabek, get well soon. There’s nothing I wish more for._

He read the letter a second time and he got angry while doing so. There was nothing to mis-read. There was only one logical explanation: She had lied. If what Yuri wrote was the truth, then he had indeed been in Almaty to see him. It made sense considering that he had been missing a few days before returning to his grandfather in Moscow. He had come to see him. He had been to the hospital. He and his cat. He had met Otabek’s parents. He had talked to his mother.

She had lied.

Otabek remembered exactly how he had asked his mother about Yuri one time and how she had frozen in her movement, her hands levitating over the dough she had been preparing. “I don’t know”, she had said. “He was your friend, I know that much. But since we brought you home I never heard of him.”

She had lied.

Her hands hanging in the air. Her gaze on the wall. Her voice steady and composed. Her words brief.

She had lied.

The moment of shock burned to ashes in the rage that stirred up in Otabek. He dialed the number of the landline, pacing the room like a predator in a cage waiting for someone to pick up. It was the middle of night in Kazakhstan, but he didn’t care. He needed to talk to her, now. He wanted her to explain herself, wanted to hear that it was all just a terrible misunderstanding. That she had not lied to him intentionally. That she had not covered up the fact that Yuri had run away from home to come and see him in his pitiful condition.

His father picked up.

“I need to talk to mother”, Otabek said, cold, briefly and without a greeting.

His father grunted, then Otabek heard the handset being put on the small green table. After a few moments his mother was on the line.

“Otabek, my dear, how are you?”

He didn’t answer. “Why did you lie?”, he asked instead.

His mother sounded perplex. “What are you talking about?”

“When I asked you about Yuri”, he said, his voice not more than hissing. “You said that you didn’t hear about him ever since you brought me back from Moscow. I know now that he came to Almaty. Why did you lie?”

The moment of silence told more than any word could have.

“So it’s true.”

“Did he tell you that?”, she asked and the doubt in her voice made him even angrier.

“He is gone”, he hissed. “But that’s none of your business either way.”

“Be very careful”, she said as if she was in the position to threaten him. “This is not how to talk to your mother. Mind your manners.”

“Manners!”, he laughed. “Hearing from my own mother who lied to me like that! Guess who better minds her manners?”

“Otabek!” Her voice got louder. “I refuse to tolerate such behaviour!”

He didn’t even listen. “Why did you lie!?”, he yelled, his free hand balling into a fist.

“To protect you!”, she gave back equally loud, but it only made him laugh.

“Protect me from what? A heartbroken little boy with an angora cat?! Are you kidding me?”

“Exactly, I tried to protect you from him and his bad influence. It was him who took you to this terrible Moscow and it was him who got you almost killed! I never understood what you see in this selfish brat with nothing but-”

“Don’t you dare insulting him!” His whole body started shaking as he interrupted the sentence with his shouting.

“And why not?”, his mother yelled. “What is that boy to you anyway? What makes you yell at your own mother for his sake?”

“I love him!”

“No Otabek!”, she yelled back, her voice hysteric now. “And you will never say something like that again-”

“But I do!”, he cut in. “I love him! I’ve loved him for six fucking years and I will not conceal because you don’t like it!” He felt tears on his cheeks but didn’t now if they were because he was so angry or because he missed Yuri so much. “I love him with all I have and I will find him and I don’t care if you approve of it or not! I will never stop!”

The call ended. Otabek stared at the carpet, listening to the free line signal. His hand around the cellphone was clenched painfully. After a moment he sat down at the desk again, staring at the letter.

 _I miss you so much._ , it read. He could only stare at these five words.

What was so wrong about his feelings that even his own mother couldn’t accept them? Was it because Yuri was a boy? A young man now. Because he was gay? Because he had fallen in love with those piercing, deep, sad, angry, wonderful eyes? Six years, he had said, but it wasn’t true. He hadn’t counted in the coma. It was almost ten years now. Ten years since he had first seen Yuri in that summer camp, back straight and head held up high, his body the body of a fairy and his eyes the eyes of a soldier. Almost ten years ago Otabek had lost his heart without even knowing what it meant to fall in love. It had happened nevertheless. And now he was here, his feelings bursting out of him in hot tears falling onto his knees at midnight in Moscow.


	9. Ink Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my dear friends, here's the new chapter, it's a little short and a little late and a little depressing, but I hope you still like it. ^^  
> Also if you are feeling like it, let me know where you guys are from in the comments (I hope there's no one from Australia waiting for this chapter, it's already monday even where I live ^^' )

 

The headquarter of the Main Department of Internal Affairs of the City of Moscow, the Moscow Police, was a venerable brick building that looked more like a castle than like a police station. After he had locked the motorcycle and secured the helmet Otabek looked up and down the yellowish walls and black fence before setting foot in the front yard. The leafless trees in the center of the u-shaped building complex appeared black against the gray morning sky. It looked spooky and appropriate.

Inside the main entrance a reception awaited him. The man behind the counter looked like he was in his forties, a little stocky, but the uniform was intimidating nevertheless. It was known that the Moscow police didn’t do things by half-measures and that it was very likely that one bratva or another had influence on the ongoings in the department. He needed to be very careful, just like Nad had repeated again and again.

The man greeted him with a nod. “How can I help you?” 

“I was the victim of a case of aggravated battery in 2017 here in Moscow. For juridical reasons I have to request insight in the police log.”

The man frowned. “Don’t you have a lawyer to do that stuff for you?”, the officer asked.

Otabek straightened his shoulders. “I  _ am _ my lawyer.” He hoped that the officer wouldn’t double check on that but after a moment of pondering the man nodded and picked up the receiver of his phone, pressed two buttons. Obviously Otabek’s overall appearance was convincing enough and he was glad he had chosen to wear the black suit this morning although he himself thought he looked more like an undertaker than a lawyer.

The officer mumbled something in the speaker then hung up again. “Go right down the hall”, he explained to Otabek pointing in said direction, “and then through the glass door. There is the reception for the log achieve. My colleague awaits you there.”

“Thank you very much, Sir”, Otabek replied and went as told.

The hallway seemed dim, although the fluorescent tubes overhead were bright enough. But the gray flecked beige floor, beaten by hundreds of thousands steps in the military boots that were part of the Russian police uniform, seemed to absorb any kind of bright light, just like the pale sky outside. The walls were of a light blue but even that looked gray. It was just as depressing as the rest of Moscow.

Otabek passed by several open office doors. Phones rang and computer keyboards were to be heard. In one of the offices a radio was lowly playing an old Russian folk song that he recognized immediately: 

_ Oh, dear song of a young maiden,  _ a deep male voice sang,

_ fly and float up to the shining sun  _

_ and over to the border to this soldier so far away,  _

_ and bring him Katyusha’s greetings. _

The sound vanished when the glass door fell shut behind Otabek. At the counter on the left sat a young woman in the female uniform, her hat on the desk next to a light pink steaming cup of coffee.

“Good morning”, she said, looking him up and down with a smile. “Are you the lawyer my colleague talked about?” She was pretty, with a dark blonde pony tail and gray-blue eyes. Her smile was genuine. She was the exact opposite of the guy at the front desk.

“Good morning”, Otabek greeted in return. “I see you have been informed already, but let me explain the details of my request.” He cleared his throat. “There was an attack on 30th of October 2017, here in Moscow. I’d like to see the file pertaining this incident if it is possible.”

“Yeah, sure”, she said, still smiling. “I need your ID first to check if you are authorized. You can only gain access to your personal file or the one of a person you represent by decree. But of course you know that, you’re a lawyer after all”, she added and laughed blushing as if she was embarrassed about her needless explanation.

Otabek took his passport from his pocket and handed it to her. She didn’t even open it, but turned around on her office chair and towards the door in the back. “Vassily, can you do me a favour and go fetch a file for me? I can’t leave the counter alone.”

After only some seconds a young policeman showed up and with a neutral nod took Otabek's passport from the lady.

“We have the files in alphabetical order sorted by names, so he should be right back”, she explained. “Over here”, she gestured to the right, “there is a small office where you can go through the file. There is a vending machine for coffee as well, but I do not recommend it.” With a smile she nodded towards her own mug. “I could go get you you the good stuff though if you want.”

Otabek nodded. “That would be very kind of you.” He wondered what had become of her excuse not to leave the counter alone, but he didn't ask. Actually the way she smiled at him bothered him a little, and he expected her to ask for his phone number any moment. Since he had come to Moscow he was under the constant impression that people seemed to be interested in his looks a lot. Dima and Nad both had mentioned that they considered him attractive and Mila hadn't even bothered to hide that she found him handsome as well. Although he didn't see a reason why people would think that, the way the female officer looked at him got him to realize that she might be interested in him as well. Therefore he was glad that she offered him to get him a coffee. He wasn't used to attention like that and if that was the way to avoid her then he'd not hesitate to take the offer.

When she got up, her younger colleague showed up again, Otabek's passport and a thin cardboard file in his hand. “Ah, that was indeed fast, thank you Vassily”, she said and he nodded wordlessly before heading over to the office in the back again where he originally had come from. The lady handed Otabek the file over the counter and looked over to the small reading room. “Please, make yourself at home over there, I'll bring your coffee there.”

“Thank you a lot”, Otabek said with an affirmative nod and entered the room in the right. There were three small desks there and a single potted plant that looked like it needed some water instantly. Without paying his surroundings much more attention he sat down at one of the tables, stored away his passport in the pocket of his jacket and opened the file. 

His passport photo greeted him, the old one from before the coma. It was attached to a single sheet with a paperclip, that stated his personal information as well as a short police record. The report said that on the 30th of October 2017 a few minutes before midnight a call had come in that informed the headquarter about an assault in Novogireyevo district. A patrol car as well as an ambulance had been sent there, finding the attackers gone and only the two victims left behind. One had been unharmed, but the other one had suffered severe injuries that made necessary the immediate transport to the hospital. The report stated names and ID numbers of the police officers present and the paramedics. Obviously the officers had managed to get some information out of Yuri, making them learn that there had been five perpetrators who were currently on the run, at least one of them equipped with a knife. Patrols throughout the night in that area had not been able to take suspects into custody though. The search was given up in the morning and the file closed.

Otabek tried to keep his breath even as he took out his small black book and fountain pen to take notes and write down the location of the assault as stated in the log. Then he read through the report again. It was strange to see in very few lines how his own life had been nearly ended. It was just a few brief words printed on the most ordinary paper that described how he had almost been killed, his profession, his hope for the future and his best friend taken away from him. Words like  _ victim _ ,  _ severe injuries _ ,  _ witness _ \- they sounded so distant, so cold. It was frightening.

Despite the exact location of the incident the report was a disappointment. With a frown Otabek closed both his pen and his notebook, just as the police woman entered the room holding a cup of coffee.

“I didn’t know if you drink it with milk or sugar”, she said with a confident smile and put the cup on the table. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes”, Otabek said, stored away his notebook and pen and got up. “I gratefully acknowledge your cooperation.” He closed the file and handed it over to her, ignoring the coffee, and left without another look back leaving her perplexed. He didn’t have the nerve to have her flirting with him, not now, not after what he had read, not after he had found nothing to help him. Not after the hope in his chest withered away like an abandoned potted plant.

He knew the location of the assault now, but how was that useful to him? He could go there, he  _ had _ to, it was the only clue he had and maybe it would bring back some memories, but it was a terrible thought that he had to rely on his luck so much. And if not, if there was no afflatus, what would he do? Was joining the Orlov bratva the only way to merely have a chance to find out what had happened? It scared him, a lot if he was honest with himself. He had acted composed when Nad had asked him about it, but of course even he was terrified by the thought that he had to deal with such a powerful and dangerous organization. But then again it was true what he had replied to her: he had nothing left to lose but his life. And if there was a chance to find out something,  _ anything _ , maybe something that would help him find Yuri even, that would give him any clue to what had happened to his beloved friend, he’d gladly put his life on the line for that. He was nothing without Yuri and he refused to try and live without him.

He was outside and about to put on his helmet when he received a text message from Nad: _ if you have time come over to the shop. i have a suggestion that might help you. _

He was there within 17 minutes.

“Erasyl”, the tattoo artist greeted him. “Come in and sit down.” She closed the door and locked it behind him, left down the shutter again. 

The shop was usually closed on thursdays, Nad had mentioned it before, and Otabek was curious about why she had asked him to come here. He watched the white rabbit, Merlin, how he drank out of the hanging water container and it reminded him of the White Rabbit that Alice had tried to chase down in wonderland: running and running and searching and failing again and again. It was so metaphoric considering his own situation that he had to hold back a bitter smile.

“I talked to my friends regarding your problem”, Nad said and sat down with him, lighting a cigarette. “One of them, who has some… bonds with people from certain systems suggested that in order to access the bratva the easiest way would be to pretend that you are already a part of it. The Orlov bratva is so massive, nobody knows every single member. There is one way to identify them without a doubt though. I think you can guess what that is.”

“The tattoo.” Otabek frowned. He had an idea where this was going.

“Exactly”, Nad confirmed. “If you are an outer member - that means if you are responsible for the work that has to do directly with the ‘clients’ - it is convenient to have the tattoo in a spot where it is clearly visible. You mentioned that you have seen it on a guy’s neck and remember it on the hand of one of the gangsters back then. If it sits in places like that people know who they are dealing with and don’t cause trouble usually. Also fellow members of the bratva recognize each other easily even if they have not met before.”

“You are suggesting that I get it too so I can infiltrate the network without creating a fake identity.”

She nodded. “I know that it sounds crazy. It would mean that you wear the crest of an organisation that made you suffer so much on your body, visible and all the time, like a fucking stigma. I understand if you are disgusted by the thought. I would be. But you avoid questions. Questions that might cost you your life. My friend just came up with the idea and I decided that you might give it a thought. Consider the pros and cons. It is a one way ticket. It’s more or less permanent, although if you make it out of there you could always have it removed or covered up with something else. It is a restriction, but also a relatively secure way into the bratva-”

“I’ll do it.”

Nad grimaced. “Erasyl, don’t act on impulse, please, think about it first-”

“I said I’ll do it.” Otabek clenched his hands into fists. “You are right, it is madness. But if it gives me a chance, if it gives me  _ hope _ , then there’s no reason for me to hesitate a heartbeat longer. I can not surrender because that means I am as good as dead. If selling my soul to the devil is what it takes, then show me where to sign.”

A moment of silence passed, then Nad stubbed out her cigarette. “If you are absolutely sure… I happen to know a tattoo artist around here…”  She smirked.

**н**

There was blood, ink and a clear liquid under the transparent plastic wrap around Otabek’s right lower arm. It made the material slip back and forth a little and mixed together, causing a disgusting squishy feeling on the sore, aching skin.

Nad had done the tattoo right away. Her ‘friend with bonds’ had sent her a picture of the tattoo the Orlov bratva had chosen as a distinctive symbol. He used to be a tattoo artist himself and had done the tattoo for several members of the bratva before retiring some years ago. The tattoo itself looked good on Otabek’s tan skin even though it was swollen and bleeding. Nad was a skilled artist with the needle.

“If you want to have it covered with something else let me know”, she had offered while doing the shading. “I watered down the ink a little more than usual so that it won’t be that dark in the end and can be covered up easier. In return I expect you to survive, you hear me? And then you come back here and I cover it up with something amazing.”

Otabek had nodded. He had an idea what he would get if he made it that far. 

He laid down on the bed in only boxershorts, freezing in the still cold hotel room scrutinizing the tattoo. He hated it. Looking at it made him want to throw up, made him so sad and so angry at the same time. But instead of giving in to the pain inside he closed his eyes and imagined the day when he’d return to Nad’s tattoo shop with the drawing he wanted to have her to ink under his skin. He had known right away what it would be: the one that Yuri had left in the box for him, the very last sheet, the very last sign of him and he would take it wherever he’d go. Tiger and bear, Yuri and Otabek, on his body, side by side until the day he died.


	10. Endless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back!! As a reward take the following drawing of our sweetest Kazakh boy that doesn't live up to his real beauty, but at least gives you an idea.  
> Have fun ^-^

 

“Hold it steady.” “Don’t blink.” “Keep your eyes on the target.” “Don’t be scared.”

It was hard. Especially taking that last advice, because he was scared as hell. He had never ever touched a gun before coming to Moscow. And now he was training to use it against other humans. It made him feel sick.

He pulled the trigger. Again and again.

“Not bad”, Vlad said eventually. “We’re getting there.” The human-shaped target slid over towards the booth hanging from the rail mechanism and Vlad nodded his approval. “You’re a natural.”

It was only Otabek’s second day in the gun range, but he had to confess that his instructor was right. He had talent and he was disgusted by it.

The MP-443 Grach was heavy in his hand, but not as cold as he had initially expected. The polymer of the handle had warmed up in his hand really quickly so that it didn’t feel foreign anymore and that was scary as well.

The gun was the standard model for the Russian Police and some Kazakh private security services as Otabek had learned, so with his made up migration background that they had come up with for his new papers it would make sense that he’d use this model. Also it was a reliable and solid gun, relatively easy to handle and pricey. The thought that he was now in possession of a gun made Otabek’s stomach turn once more.

“It’s obvious that you do sports that require a certain level of body balance and steadiness”, Vlad said and plucked the sheet from the clips, handing it to Otabek who took it without showing hesitation when all he wanted was to avoid touching it, facing what he had done even it it was only ink on a piece of paper that had been pierced by the bullets. “Are you sure you never fired a gun before yesterday?”, Vlad then laughed, while Otabek looked down on the paper. Only two shots had missed the circles in the center, hitting within the black stylized torso nevertheless.

“I am”, he replied, his voice steady.

“You should think about hunting”, Vlad said, taking the sheet back so that Otabek could secure his gun and take the magazine out. “The real thing is way more fun.”

“I refuse”, he said, putting the gun and the ammunition in the small case it had come in.

“What a pity”, the Russian said while storing away the ear protection. “You’d be so good at it.”

With a shrug Otabek closed the case and took it from the counter. They headed over to the front desk and Otabek payed the fee, then got into his jacket and took his helmet. He answered Vlad’s “See you tomorrow” with a nod and stepped outdoors.

Nad had suggested the place in a remote suburb district of Moscow. “Vlad is discreet”, she had pointed out and she had been right. He was a good instructor as well but didn’t talk more than necessary, just like Otabek. When Otabek had registered yesterday Vlad had not even asked for his papers, shrugging it off with a “If Nad sends you, it’s okay”.

Indeed his new papers were not finished yet. It would take some time for them to be of good quality, Nad had explained. He was fine with that, actually, as he had some business with his real papers.

Yesterday he had been to the hospital where the ambulance had brought him after the attack. He had asked for his medical records but they had not contained any valuable information that had not been in his way more substantial file he had gone through in Almaty. Afterwards he had picked up the gun from one of Nad’s acquaintances and then headed over to the firing range.

Like yesterday the sun had already set when he finished his training and it was freezing cold, but at least not snowing. Still he shivered, from the cold and the tension. The thought that he’d might be in a situation when he was forced to make use of this training gave him the chills. Yesterday he had missed most of the shots, but today, after Vlad had corrected his stance and posture, the ratio of hits had increased drastically. If he’d progress like that they’d move on to moving targets by next week. It was terrifying.

Otabek brought the engine to life and returned to the hotel. The ride on the lowly growling bike made him relax a little, but the presence of the fire gun in the saddle bag was haunting.

He decided to clean the gun, then take a shower and grab a bite to eat. Maybe afterwards he could go to the gym down the street. It had cleared his mind yesterday and he had been even more on the edge after firing the first shots in his life, so it would most likely calm him down today as well.

He had just finished the first task, putting the weapon back in its case when his phone vibrated. Unlocking the screen he recognized the profile picture only at second thought. It showed the drawing of a whale shark and only after a moment Otabek remembered that he had made good on his promise and texted Dima this morning.

“Get to know the city”, Nad had instructed him and rather than exploring it by himself he had decided to ask Dima, who had come to Moscow himself lately after all and who would probably know what places he needed to know first from his own experience.

So the message was the reply to his text earlier today.

_Nice to hear from you! (Also to learn your name, I totally forgot to ask you about that :D)_

_I’m free tonight, just finished a project. If you wanna hang out we could go have dinner? I haven’t eaten yet and there’s a nice steak place I wanted to try out._

_If you like. X3_

Frowning down on the message Otabek took a moment to decide. That was not entirely what he had requested from Dima, but on the other hand he hadn’t had dinner either, so it might at least be a chance to get to know something.

 _If it is convenient for you we could meet in approximately an hour. -Erasyl_ , he replied, receiving a thumbs-up icon and then the address of a restaurant close to the Staraya Square.

After Otabek had showered he took care of the tattoo, cleaning it carefully, then applying the lotion Nad had recommended. It had stopped bleeding yesterday already, but it was still itchy and oozed just a little of the transparent liquid, so he wrapped foil around it once more before dressing. He dressed in a suit as he didn’t know how casual the restaurant was, but spared the necktie this time in order not to make Dima uncomfortable by looking like a secret agent. It was half past eight already and he decided to take a taxi because it was too cold for the bike by now.

The ride to the restaurant didn’t take long, so Otabek arrived 10 minutes early. He paid and walked over to the entrance of the restaurant. He was surprised to find Dima waiting there.

“Oh, hey Erasyl”, the redhead greeted him with a genuine smile. “You’re already here. Guess we are both the types to rather be a little early”, he said and chuckled and Otabek nodded.

“I hope you didn’t wait long.”

“Oh, it’s fine”, Dima replied with his Yuuri-ish smile and gestured towards the restaurant. “Shall we?”

Otabek’s manners made him open the door and grant entry for his companion. They handed in their coats at the entrance and were shown a table in the far back of the guest room.

The steakhouse was furnished rustic-style with heavy wooden tables and chairs upholstered with leather. The ceiling resembled that of a barrel vault, huge lamp shades hanging from the brick arches.

“I always wanted to come here”, Dima explained. “But my friends are either vegetarians or, like, constantly broke.” He laughed and even Otabek felt a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

The waitress came and handed them the menus and both of them stuck their noses in the heavy leather folder.

 

**ы**

 

“-the problem is”, Dima said in between bites, “that the paper sucks the ink from the pens like a vampire. That’s why you need the special paper and that is very expensive. So you, like, either buy new pens all the time or you go for the super expensive paper. Either way it’s not exactly cheap. It’s a shame.”

Otabek nodded to signalize that he had understood the issue at hand.

“So”, Dima concluded. “I technically live at that shop. That’s why I immediately noticed that I haven’t seen you around before.” He pinched a fry with his fork and looked at Otabek for a moment, then asked: “So, you said you are here for work?”

Again Otabek nodded. “I had business in Moscow three years ago already but it turned out there are some questions to be resolved.”

“Sounds serious”, Dima said with a laugh. “But you said you have to get to know the city a little as you will stay longer?”

“My... partner was with me last time who was from Moscow and therefore familiar with the location”, Otabek vaguely outlined. “But as it is only me this time I need to get along by myself. I don’t want to rely only on maps and navigation systems though and to learn the city by heart requires a certain amount of time. So I thought I could ask for your help about this matter. If you don’t mind.”

When Dima smiled his eyes shimmered like light blue water behind his glasses. “I don’t mind at all”, he replied. “Actually I know most of the important places here already, but it could be fun to explore more than that as well. I’m, like, usually in my room most of the time and work for university, but when I came here I used to walk around with the other freshmen a lot. So it would be nice to go and see those places again.”

“I appreciate your help”, Otabek said, taking a sip of his water.

For some reason Dima laughed. “People must think we are a weird duo”, he stated. “You are so serious and good-looking with your suit and stoic behaviour and all that and I’m the grinning ginger care-bear who tags along like you take me for a stroll.”

Otabek thought about it for a moment. They didn’t quite fit together indeed. Obviously Dima liked dressing in a fancy but kind of old-fashioned style like the light green linen shirt and knitted grey-blue cardigan that went well with his messy red hair and round glasses. His skinny jeans were of a light gray, his boots red. Yuri would probably say that he looked like a tramp.

The sudden thought of Yuri made Otabek’s insides tense and he put his fork down. He could hear his voice in his head: “And what does that jerk even dress like, does he get his outfits from a fucking clothing drive or does he look like a fucking hippy on purpose?”

That hadn’t happened before and it took Otabek by surprise. He hadn’t remembered Yuri’s voice before, but now it was there, like the boy was standing beside him, right at their table, commenting on Dima as caustic and spiteful as ever. His voice was deep and a little raspy, just like it used to be whenever someone else was around, but not when they were by themselves. When it was only the both of them, it was still deep, but low and soft and so different, but nonetheless beautiful. Tears dwelled in Otabek’s eyes as sudden as a spring tide.

(It played like a video before his eyes, this one moment when Yuri had sounded as vulnerable and gentle as never before. On his sofa, the old red one in Otabek’s apartment in Almaty, Yuri’s eyes grow soft and his voice as well. “There was a princess that never laughed and never smiled”, he says, softly, his voice vanishing into the summer night. Yuri’s head leans against Otabek’s shoulder and Otabek looks down on his golden hair while his friend is narrating the fairytale that he says his grandfather read to him so often that he knows it by heart even after all those years.

“The king, her father, was heartbroken about her mirthless life, so he offered wealth and glory to the one who would make her smile, and many men came to try, but she was gloomy and whatever the men did, princes and jokers and magicians, she never smiled. But in a village close by there lived a poor peasant with his grandson and they had a hard life. The boy was so charming though, even the animals from the forest liked him and he became friends with all of them. However when he was old enough his grandfather sent him away to find work because he could not feed him anymore. So the boy went and tried to find work in the village but no one could give him work. He went all the way to the town where castle was, hoping that he would find work there. On that day another prince had come to try and save the princess and as he careered down the street the boy was pushed in the dirt of the roadside ditch. The prince didn’t even notice and approached the princess and no one cared for the boy in the mud. But his friends, the forest animals, had seen all that and they came to help him. Soon the street was crowded with birds that pulled the boy out of the mud with their beaks and deers that offered their antlers as support and butterflies brushing the dirt from his clothes and it was such a joyful view that it made the princess smile. The boy was rewarded with gold and gems and titles but the princess had fallen in love with him as well and so they married and he became the king and he had his grandfather come to the castle and live with them in prosperity.”

He falls silent and Otabek realizes that Yuri loves this story because he wants to be like the boy in the tale, not because of the princess, but because he wants to help his grandfather to live a peaceful and carefree life and it almost makes him cry how selfless Yuri is. He falls more in love with him every second they spend together.)

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

The voice was soft and gentle, but different and Otabek realized that he was staring at his plate, tears falling from his eyes once more. Looking up he saw the concern in Dima’s eyes but was unable to explain what had happened, so he just shook his head.

Tilting his head to the side the redhead put down his cutlery and reached over, to take Otabek’s hand. “It’s okay”, he said. “Why don’t we call it a day and get out of here?” His smile looked more like Yuuri’s than ever and Otabek nodded wordlessly.

Dima volunteered to go pay at the counter while Otabek picked up their coats, hiding his tears by lowering his head.

Once outside Dima called up for a taxi and shoved Otabek inside before sitting down next to him. Otabek said the name of the hotel and the driver just hummed and pulled out of the parking space.

“Hey”, Dima said after a while. “Listen, I don’t know what happened to you but… You know, I noticed in the shop already when you were talking about your friend... “ He sighed and Otabek wished that he just fell silent, because it hurt so much to think of Yuri, but he didn’t dare talking, afraid that he’d burst into tears right here. “I see that you are in pain”, Dima continued, then hesitantly took Otabek’s hand like to comfort him. “And I don’t know you very well, but I think that you, like, are the type to keep the pain inside. And that’s not good.” He sighed. “The thing is, you know, I like you, so if I can help you somehow… If you need someone to talk about it, or just be with you and not talk at all or I don’t know, well, if there is anything I can do, tell me, okay?” He waited for an answer and when there was none repeated: “Okay?”

Otabek managed to nod. He didn’t want to talk. To no one. He wanted to keep that pain inside, because only there it was safe and wouldn’t come back at him. He couldn’t be weak, he had to learn how to handle this. He tried, but the memories had come back all too sudden, strong and totally unexpected. He couldn’t control the flashbacks, but he at least had to learn how to control his feelings when it happened. He couldn’t risk breakdowns like this anymore, not if he wanted to proceed with his desperate plan.

“This isn’t meant to be offensive, but maybe you should see someone”, Dima murmured a moment later. “Like, a therapist or something.”

Something in Otabek’s chest grew hot. “I’m not crazy”, he growled.

“That’s not what I meant.”

The taxi came to a halt in front of the hotel and Dima looked back and forth between the driver and Otabek who grit his teeth.

“Erasyl”, he said, but the driver interrupted him: “Are you getting out or what?”

“Yeah, sure, give me a second”, the redhead groaned and handed the driver some bills, then opened the door and dragged Otabek out of the car. The door was closed for not more than a split second when the car pulled away.

Otabek watched it fade away in the traffic that had calmed down that late at night, but still was busy enough so that he lost track of the tail lights after a moment.

“Erasyl”, Dima said once again. “Sorry, I didn’t want to upset you even more. I just think that you should talk about it. About what makes you so sad.”

Otabek looked at him, silent. Maybe he was right. He had tried to do that by himself. He had not talked about his feelings, not even with JJ, a friend whom he trusted. He had tried to bottle up the pain and the fear in order not to be vulnerable, but maybe that was exactly how he was the most vulnerable in the end. Crying every time he caught the glance of a memory of Yuri, bursting into tears in public like a goddamn mental wreck, because, yeah, that’s exactly what he was. Left alone with nothing but memories that came back to him as unexpected and painful as knife thrusts and the gun on his bed and this endless, endless fear that he’d not find him ever again, that he’d lost him forever.

A violent sob shook his body and before he knew what was happening Dima had wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a wordless embrace and he clung to the smaller boy and cried into his coat.

“It hurts”, he sobbed, gentle hands on his back, wandering up and down his spine. “It hurts so fucking much. To keep it all inside. To not let it show. When all I want to do is scream.”

The touch of Dima’s hands was comforting even through the fabric of his coat and his voice soothing when he said: “It’s okay to scream. Sometimes it’s just what you need to do.” He held Otabek until the tears became fewer and the sobbing evened out. “Do you want to, like, tell me what happened?”

Otabek thought about it for a moment. He wanted to. Actually, he honestly wanted to, just to see if it eased the pain. But he couldn’t. His identity had to remain a secret. He could never tell anyone, not who he was, not who he had been and what had happened to him. It had to remain left unsaid.

“I can’t”, he whispered into the messy red curls. “I know that it will drive me crazy sooner or later or already has. But I can never talk about it. It’s vital that I keep that to myself.”

Dima nodded. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.”

“You do”, Otabek murmured. “Thank you.” It was true, his tears had stopped somehow. He let go of the redhead and stood upright.

Dima looked at him biting his lip, then let go of Otabek as well. “Erasyl”, he whispered, then rose his hand to wipe away a stray tear from Otabek’s cheek. His eyes shimmered in the light of the street lamps as he looked Otabek right onto the eyes. Then, like he burnt his fingers, he broke the contact, made a step backwards and hunched his shoulders, blushing. “You’re handsome”, he murmured and looked down on the ground with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I got carried away a little. I just wanted you to know…” He rose his eyes and looked at Otabek shyly. “If I can help you, let me know, okay? I could, like, show you around tomorrow if you like or… Well, something like that or... something, okay?” He chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I guess I’ll better head home and stop… babbling… Just… let me know if you want to, like, go explore tomorrow.”

“Okay”, Otabek replied, turning to head over to the entrance of the hotel and Dima turned away as well. “Good night.”

“Good night, Erasyl.”

It reminded him of how Yuri used to end their skype calls: “Good night, Otabek”, he used to say in his low, deep voice when the sky over the Kazakh mountains had turned from black to a soft blue already but the stars still glittering in the distance. Everything reminded him of Yuri.

He went upstairs to his room, dropped his coat on the floor, his shirt as well, kicked his shoes into a corner.

The tattoo hurt. His chest hurt. His eyes hurt from crying, his jaws hurt from clenching.

_“Good night, Otabek.”_

He wanted to scream.

He didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that you all hate Dima. And I can work with that, you're welcome ;D  
> Btw, this chapter takes place on 29th of February 2021. You know what that means ^^  
> Let me hear a peep from you if you like to. I love you all <3


	11. The End [...]

 

_ Sorry about yesterday, I think I was awkward. I hope you don’t think I wanted to pressure you into anything or smth… X’( _

_ Totally out of context, but one of my friends got ill and we wanted to go to the drum and bass event at Nightshade tonight, do you want to come in his place? I don’t know if it’s your music taste but I bet it will be fun and he’d give the spot to you if you like. I think it would be cool if you came. :D _

 

Otabek had returned from the gym in the morning when the message from Dima came in. He had practiced melee and knife combat since seven in the morning and was about to take a shower before heading over to Nad’s where he’d pick up his papers that had been delivered earlier. She wanted to check on how his tattoo healed as well and would be at the shop at eleven waiting for him, so he had only half an hour to shower and get ready. He dropped the phone onto the mattress and went to the shower.

When he had finished he picked up the phone again. He had thought about it for a while and had decided that he really had nothing to lose. It wasn’t like he had planned anything for the night, too. His day was packed with appointments and ideas on what to investigate, but it wouldn’t look convincing to head over to the police station to check the police record again too late in the day, so he’d go there after he had seen Nad and picked up his papers. Afterwards he’d have lunch and then visit the shooting range once more. His plan on going through the obituary column had to wait until monday anyway. So the evening was free and to be honest it sounded enticing to go to a club after all that time. Music had played such an important role in his life before the coma and he although he had focused on his rehabilitation and his investigation now, he liked the thought of getting back into music even if it was only for a short time. So it might be a good idea to go.

Water dripped onto the screen from his wet hair as he replied:  _ Please provide me with further information on the time you want to meet. Also send greetings to your friend. If it fits my schedule I’d gladly take the offer. _

(Yuri had always complained about how awkward Otabek’s texts were. He kind of saw it too, but of course the pretty Russian had put it in the most colorful words whenever he’d notice, like only Yuri Plisetsky could. “You write like a cyborg”, Yuri snorts that one particular time, glancing over to Otabek’s phone. He doesn’t even hide the fact that he reads what the older boy is typing. It’s only a text to his coach though, not that Otabek has something to hide to begin with.

“Maybe I am one”, is Otabek’s answer that makes Yuri lift his eyebrows.

“Actually, no, that can’t be true. You heart beats so loud, I hear it every night when you already fell asleep.”

“Maybe”, Otabek continues, trying not to be distracted by the thought that Yuri lies awake listening to his heartbeat, “it’s a sound generated by a speaker in my mechanic chest.” He grins and Yuri picks it up, grins back at him.

“If you are a cyborg you have to follow those rules, right? Those laws for robots and stuff so they don’t become a threat for humans…”

“Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics”, Otabek says with a nod. “No threatening, absolute obedience and protection of humans.”

Yuri looks at him for a second. “You’ll do that then?”, he asks, his voice low. His hair shines like pale gold in the sun that will soon set. “Never hurt me, obey me and protect me?”

Otabek’s face becomes serious, the message he was just typing long forgotten. He’d do it. He’d do anything for Yuri. He will never hurt him, neither physically nor mentally. He’ll do anything to make Yuri happy, to make him feel good, to make him feel loved, whatever it takes. And he will protect him no matter what. Even if it costs him his own life.

Yuri looks away, grinning, hunching his shoulders. “I’m fine with you being human. Even if you text like a total weirdo.” There’s a blush on the tip of his nose and it’s true: Otabek would give his life for this boy.)

With a start Otabek was back in Moscow, waking up from a warm, golden shining daydream of Almaty, back in the cold, gray reality of the Russian capital. He touched the send arrow and put the phone down, then went to dress in a black three-piece suit. Today even the shirt was black, making the necktie and jacket blend in with it. The outfit was appropriate though; he had important business to do.

After drying his hair and slicking it back with wax he left for the tattoo shop.

“You’re insane getting on the bike in that cold”, Nad said when he walked up to the shop. She was standing outside, scratching a sticker from the doorframe with her long black fingernails. “I see that it’s convenient though”, she then added with a shrug and led Otabek inside.

Handing him a thick brown paper envelope she explained: “Keep only these from now on. Lock your real papers away somewhere safe, like a bank locker or something. Make sure that if something happens to you, the locker will be opened and the paper be sent to your family. They deserve to know if you die.” The look she gave him was bitter. “You still want to do this, don’t you”, she asked with a sigh and when Otabek nodded shook her head in contrast. “You shouldn’t, Erasyl. Really, you shouldn’t. Your life is worth too much.”

Otabek looked down on the papers. He couldn’t back off. He’d lose his purpose, his aim, the reason he was still here. He had only that left. “I need to. I am sorry.”

“You’re not”, Nad suspected and gestured towards his right arm. “Let me see the tattoo.”

She checked the progress of the skin healing with raised eyebrows. “That looks really good”, she stated. “Your tissue repair seems to be really fast. Actually I think you can leave out the foil, you don’t need to wrap it anymore. Just lotion it and clean it carefully, then it should be good in no time.”

“How about training?”, Otabek asked. “Is there something to pay attention to?”

“Just work out like you usually would. Your body does the rest by itself.”

With a nod Otabek put the sleeve of his shirt back down, then got into the jacket again. When he had stored the envelope away he and Nad exchanged long glances.

“You did all this for me”, he said after a moment. “I can never thank you and your friends enough for that.”

“It’s fine, you payed a lot of money for all that.” Her smile was genuine, but it vanished quickly. “Don’t get yourself killed out there, you hear me? I expect to see your pretty face again when you come to have that tattoo covered up, the sooner the better.” And when he nodded, she added: “Take care, Erasyl. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

With another nod he bid her farewell, giving the rabbits a smile when he passed by the cage on his way out.

It wasn’t a farewell forever, he thought. She was right, he’d do his best and would come back to this place. And the next time he’d introduce Yuri to her and her rabbits.

 

**е**

 

Her eyes started shining when she recognized him. “Oh, it’s you again!” She tugged on the collar of her police uniform and blushed a little. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Did you forget something?”

Otabek nodded. “There is some information I need to confirm.”

She smiled brightly. “My colleague has lunch break”, she explained. “I can go fetch the folder real fast, you can go have a seat in the reading office already if you like. What was the name again?”

Otabek stared at her for a second blankly. His name. She had never known it. How would she know if it was his real name? He could of course tell her his name, the real one, Otabek Altin, but- This was madness. But on the other hand maybe this was the one chance he’d ever get. Maybe Allah had mercy for once.

He let one corner of his mouth rise a little forming the slightest lopsided smile, as flirty as possible, noticing how she inhaled audibly. “Yuri Petrovich Plisetsky”, he said, slowly, his eyes on hers intensely.

“Right”, she said, like if she had known it all along, getting up from her chair. “Please, over there, I’ll be there in a moment.”

It was too easy. Otabek frowned, full of doubt, as he walked over to the next room. It couldn’t be so easy! Wasn’t there strict regulation to at all times check the papers of a person who requested insight in police reports? How could she be so irresponsible? Only because he seemed to meet her taste in men? Could it, for once, really be that easy?

“Sorry, took a little”, her voice came from the door.

He turned around from where he stood, pitying the potted plant, to see her at the door, a thin folder in her hand. “You really should water the plant”, he said with the fake smile again as he took the file from her. “If you’d excuse me now…”

She nodded and left.

Otabek stood for a moment, petrified, then sat down and opened the file. 

Yuri Petrovich Plisetsky, born March 1st 2001 in Moscow. Sex  _ male _ , height  _ 1,73 m _ , color of eyes  _ blue-green _ , attached a mugshot of a young man with long blonde hair, pale skin, eyes of a soldier. Otabek checked the timestamp of the photo: First of May 2020.

Last year. The photo was from last year.

Blood rushed in Otabek’s ears. Almost exactly 10 months ago this photo had been taken, Yuri’s file updated, here, in Moscow. He had been here, less than a year ago.

Breathing heavily Otabek read through the file. The first paragraph was almost identical to the one in Otabek’s file, describing the attack in few details but focusing on Yuri as the victim of course.

But there was a second one. One that described how Yuri had been taken in by a police patrol on that first of May last year, a tuesday, at 3:48 in the morning, dressed inappropriate, drunk and in the possession of 4 grams of cannabis. After thorough admonition the substance had been confiscated and the suspect released. The report mentioned that the suspect had stated to have been in a nightclub until recently and on his way home and that the cannabis was not his and that he had no idea how it had gotten in his coat. With that the case was closed.

Otabek’s heart had stopped beating a long time ago. He read the file again. And again. Looking at the photo of Yuri, his hair long and golden and messy, his face so pale and tired, but his eyes, his soldiers eyes, were as fair and unmistakable as always.

“Yuri”, Otabek murmured, his fingertips stroking the picture. He had been here, just then, not so long ago. Hope unfolded its light wings in his chest, opening like a bud, fragile, vulnerable and beautiful.

Staring at the picture Otabek fought the tears back. Yuri had grown. 1,73, that’s what the document said, as tall as Yuuri now. The photo most likely didn’t do him justice, but even in the crappy police mug shot Yuri was stunningly beautiful. His hair cascaded over his shoulders in a light gold, like honey, playful waves around his still angelic but more mature face. His skin was so white it made the slender elegant eyebrows stand out, emphasizing the light red of his lips. His eyelids shimmered in a light red as well like he had been awake a little too long. Around his neck Otabek spotted a black leather collar with two silver rings at the front, and it looked so tight that the mere view of it made Otabek swallow. Yuri wore what seemed to be a black lace shirt with a neckline so low and wide it showed his prominent collarbones. He was so beautiful it hurt in Otabek’s chest.

He’d find him. Even if it was the last thing he did in his life. He’d find him and tell him how much he loved him, Otabek promised to himself.

He took a photo of the file with his phone camera, then a close up of the photo in the file and closed it. After taking a deep breath he stepped out towards the counter.

The police lady gave him another bright smile. “Are you finished already? I had hoped that you’d be around until my colleagues lunch break was over and I could go get a coffee for the both of us.”

Otabek stared down at her. There was no need to act anymore. She was nice, sure, but the way she so obviously hit on him although she was an officer on duty disgusted him. Like he’d ever let her come closer. Like there was space for anyone in his life but Yuri. It was always only Yuri. It had always been Yuri. And it would be Yuri, forever. He’d not let anyone close but Yuri.

“That will not be necessary”, he said, his voice steady, calm, low. Cold. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He put the file on the wooden surface of the counter and left.

He didn’t even remember that he rode the bike to the hotel, nor that he got some takeout from an Indian restaurant for lunch. At one point he felt like waking up from some kind of trance, sitting at the desk in his room a half-eaten dish of mutton curry in front of him. For a moment he stared at the brownish-orange sauce and yellow rice, then pushed the styrofoam container away.

He went over to lie down on the bed and opened the gallery scroll on his phone. Yuri stared at him with tired eyes.

He tried to put together when Yuri had disappeared. His last letter held only vague information.  _  It’s been almost a year now _ , one line said, so Yuri must have written it before end of October 2018. The letter had not only been the last one in the box, but also it had sounded a lot like a farewell letter. There were so many lines in it that seemed like they were meant as last words before Yuri disappeared.

_ I can’t take it anymore… i want you to remember that wherever you are that i am with you… remember me… remember Yuri as well, because he has always been yours _

Otabek was sure that at the time Yuri had written this letter he had already known that he would leave. That he would leave his old life behind, starting anew somewhere, somehow, trying to forget the pain that his old life had made him go through, this hell of seeing everyone around him dying, leaving only this broken and lonely boy behind.

So, if Yuri had left the apartment of his grandfather somewhen around late October or early November 2018, because he had most likely not spent a very long time in the abandoned flat, it had been over one and a half year until the police patrol had taken him in. That meant that he either had not left Moscow by that time or had come back after 19 months at most. He had been to a club like a normal 19 year old, even having a small amount of weed with him, what although it had worried Otabek for a moment was a more or less normal part of any teenage phase he had heard of. He had tried it as well, back then with JJ, and he knew that at least Leo and Seung Gil had made this experience as well without trying it for a second time. It was not good, sure, but it was not something life threatening or highly addictive, so Otabek didn’t give it much thought. It bothered him a lot though, that Yuri had been by himself when he had drawn the attention of the police patrol. According to the report he had been drunk, alone and “dressed inappropriate”, what could only be a reference to the black collar and lace shirt and whatever he had worn else. Scrutinizing the photo Otabek had to confess that Yuri looked kind of feminine with the low neckline and long hair and some people might think of that as lewd or, like the description said, inappropriate for a young man. Otabek could only admire Yuri’s beauty.

He startled when the phone vibrated violently with an incoming message.

_ That’s cool!  _ Dima had written. _ We meet at 10 for preloading at our usual pub and then leave for the club. The party starts at 11. I’ll send you the location, it’d be so cool if you’d join :D _

It took only seconds for the two links to the club and a bar closeby to drop in.

Otabek closed the message after sending a brief Okay, thank you, I will be there and rolled over to lie on his back. He didn’t even look forward to the club like he had this morning. All he could think about was Yuri.

**в**

He hadn’t missed a shot. Vlad had watched him with one raised eyebrow. “You’re a phenomenon”, he had said when checking out the sheet. The three inner circles were the only ones that had been pinched by the bullets. “I’ve rarely seen someone with that much determination. You progress really fast, it’s awesome.” He had suggested that Otabek started playing airsoft to practice scenarios with opponents and handed Otabek a pamphlet of a club not too far from the range.

It had made Otabek swallow that he was so good at shooting a gun. He had held it with only one hand instead of steadying it with the second hand for the first time today and still had hit close to the bull’s eye with all shots fired. He was just glad that Vlad had given up on convincing him to go hunting. Playing airsoft was a much better option in Otabek’s opinion.

At half past 9 he had showered for the second time today, his hair styled as usual, but there was a problem now: He didn’t know what to wear. Squatting next to his suitcase he stared down on the mass of black and white clothes helplessly. He had been to clubs before, of course. He had been a DJ after all. But now things were different: He could not just wear any tank top or t-shirt like he used to. Looking at the tattoo he sighed. Sure, it was convenient to have it in a spot where it was easy to be noticed, but not tonight, not here, not like that. He really didn’t want to rub in Dima’s face that he was member of a bratva, especially not as long as he really wasn’t a part of it yet.

Something with long sleeves then. The button-down shirts he wore on a daily basis would look way too formal and therefore really awkward in a club and Otabek went through the pieces of clothing with a frown when he suddenly came across one of the pieces that Khaligaz had insisted he bought when they had been shopping. It was made of thin, soft cotton, black, with a small stand-up collar, buttoned halfway down. He put it on, as well as black jeans and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He couldn’t help but grin as he understood why Khaligaz had made him buy it: he looked very Kazakh.

“You look good”, she had said and that  was exactly what Dima said when Otabek had joined him in the bar a little more than half an hour later.

“You… look good”, the ginger Russian said, blushing, then lowly added: “To say the least.”

Otabek nodded a thanks then sat down next to Dima on the bench of the run-down bar. There were three of Dima’s friends who introduced themselves to Otabek: Evgenia, the skinny feminist with very short brown hair, Katcha, her girlfriend who was a little chubby but charismatic and was a fellow-student of Dima and Oleg, a tall, pale law-student with a nose ring who had hit on Dima in the first semester but had turned out to be not his type so they had become friends instead. Otabek nodded again, introducing himself as Erasyl who had business in Moscow but originally came from Kazakhstan. A waitress came and he ordered water, earning a look from Dima and his friends.

“We’re here to have fun, you know”, Evgenia said smirking, but apologized when Otabek explained that he was muslim.

“You come here often?”, Otabek asked looking around. It was still early, but the bar was buzzing with people, voiced and lounge-electro adding up to an enthusiastic background music. The fact that the bar itself was pretty run-down, dust collecting on the motionless fans at the ceiling and cracks in the fake snake leather of the seats didn’t seem to bother anyone. The wall in the far back had been painted in a 70’s wallpaper design in bright orange, yellow and brown and the lamps hanging from the low ceiling were different above each table. 

“Every weekend”, Katcha smiled. “Well, at least when we are not broke.”

Oleg tilted his head. “The cocktails here are the best and for a reasonable price. Not that you’d benefit from it, but if you ever decide on giving booze a try, this is the place to be. The music’s usually shit though.”

“Only because your taste in music is total crap!”, Evgenia cut in.

Dima smiled over the table. “They are always like that”, he explained with his low voice. “But they are best friends actually.”

Otabek nodded. His water came and he gave the waitress a nice tip what made her smile.

“How was your day?”, Dima asked, ignoring his friends who were discussing the playlists in different bars in the area.

“Exhausting”, Otabek confessed and took the straw out of his sparkling water to place it on a coaster. “I advanced a lot though, so it is fine. I discovered some very valuable information that might be the key to further progress.”

Dima sighed. “All that sounds so super secret.”

“It is”, Otabek replied. “I am sorry that I have to leave you in the dark about that.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad it works out nicely for you. Sounds like you  can afford to have a little fun tonight, right?”

“Exactly.”

**е**

The Nightshade Moscow was one of the most famous nightclubs in all Russia. There was a subsidiary club in St. Petersburg and one in Novosibirsk as well, but the one in Moscow was the original and of extraordinary fame. It wasn’t even that big, but the events were legendary, and the parties infamous. There was an endless coming and going of the most popular DJs and celebrities and it was really hard to get into the club without the necessary connections. Dima’s friend Sergej, the one who had become ill suddenly, was a fashion design student and had worked for the staff manager a while ago. That way he had managed to get ahold of some spots on the guest list for tonight’s event (Evgenia suspected that at least a blowjob had been involved in that act of favor as she had admitted with a wink). Several DJs would play tonight of which Otabek only knew  Alexey Zavgorodniy, as he had only found out when Oleg had showed him the list earlier. He was kind of excited now, not that it showed on his face.

“The owner somehow manages to sign a lot of really good people”, Oleg explained as they made their way towards the bar and this time Evgenia had the same opinion, which according to Dima was a rare thing to be seen. Oleg continued: “His son is into dance music, so there are a lot of events like that. They usually hang out in the VIP-Area next to the turntables, and when the show is over they do coke with the artists backstage. At least that’s what you hear.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t mind hanging out there a little as well…”

“Oleg, seriously”, Dima scolded him. “You’re gonna be a judge, be a little more reasonable if you please.”

“Only for the commemorate photos!”, Oleg laughed and gestured toward the bar. “First round is my treat, make it count”, he said with a wink.

The first DJ started playing and the dance floor was crowded right away. Otabek wasn’t one for dancing, he was more interested in the actual DJ work and stayed behind closer to the bar while the others went to dance.

After the second set the girls came over, their cheeks red and holding hands. “You really are shy”, Katcha said, obviously tipsy. “But you’re cute. You could make me hetero again”, she laughed and Evgenia grinned as well.

“If you ever consider a threesome…”, she offered, then gestured towards the toilets and they were gone.

The third set was a little slower than the first one but the beats were heavy and made Otabek’s chest vibrate with bass. It felt awesome. It was like for the first time in 

months, literal years, he felt something else than pain and fear in his chest.

After the fourth set Dima came over, smiling brightly. “I’m a little drunk”, he chuckled, more than just a little drunk actually. Sweat made strands of his wavy hair stick onto his forehead. He looked exhausted but cute. “It’s so much fun, I’m glad we managed to get in here. Do you like it, too? I feel, like, kind of bad to leave you behind like that. I dragged you here after all.” He tugged on Otabek’s sleeve.

“I am enjoying it as well”, Otabek confirmed, looking down on the slender ginger as Dima leaned against his arm softly. It made Otabek a little uncomfortable, but the boy was drunk, so it most likely didn’t hold any deeper meaning.

When the next set started, Oleg came over to look after Dima. “There you are, flirting with your hot plus-one while I wait for you”, he said with a laugh. “I thought I was your dancing partner tonight.”

“I’m just trying to entertain my guest.” Dima leaned his head against Otabek’s shoulder in a way too intimate manner, but straightened after a second to look over to the VIP area on the opposite side of the dance floow. “Look!”, he exclaimed, “Someone’s dancing!”

Otabek looked over to where Dima’s finger pointed at. Indeed there was something going on in the half-dark next to the stage: a skinny blonde girl in black leather pants and crop shirt had made her way onto the small podium in the roped-off area where some important looking people in black suits enjoyed champagne out of tall glasses. The girl turned around, obviously to present her dancing skills on the pole that was erected in the middle of the podium. She didn’t seem to plan on stripping or something although Oleg had explained earlier that that was allowed in the club. For regular customers it cost though, 20000 roubles for women and 50000 for men, but the people in the cordoned-off area were for sure favored by the club’s owner and therefore weren’t charged. Otabek didn’t think the girl would strip though anyway, her pants looked very tight so it was probably hard work to peel them from her long legs. And it wasn’t like the shining material left anything to the imagination.

“Oh”, Oleg said after a moment when he had caught a glimpse of the girl’s face as she was moving gracefully but erotically to the quick-paced beats of the music, not even paying attention to the pole. Her long, slender limbs moved in the flow of the music, the pink and violet of the spotlights hectically dancing on her fair skin and her golden hair as she threw her mane back in a swift motion that made Otabek’s heart stop beating. He could barely hear Oleg’s voice over the blast of the music and the rushing of blood in his ears as the law student added: “It’s Katyusha. The owner’s son.”

Just that it wasn’t the owner’s son.

It was Yuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End [of Hopelessness]
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, geez!!!! >o<' The terrible Yuri-less part ended, but the second part only just starts now.
> 
> Drop me a line if you liked this chapter, if you like <3  
> See you next week! ^^


	12. Of pain and pain and soldier’s eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this chapter is awesome or awkward... What do you think?

It was strange to hear the name from someone else than Khaligaz. It wasn’t extremely unfamiliar. Just a little weird. 

The sound changed as well. First smooth. Almost lovingly: “Erasyl.” Then a little irritated: “Erasyl.” Then worried: “Erasyl?” Again. “Hey, Erasyl. Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Could only stare.

His long blonde hair falling around his skinny body like strands of gold, shimmering in the violets and reds and blues of the spotlights, dancing around his shoulders, his back. His skin so fair, so fair. Like satin, like silk, but so white, just like it had always been. White hands, slender and graceful. White arms, toned, thin and elegant. A white neck, craning like iris petals. A white face, lips parted in the rush of the song. And eyes green, pale, piercing, cold, unforgettable.

“Erasyl, hey…”

“I know him”, he finally said. Yuri. He had found him. His Yuri.

“Doesn’t surprise me”, Oleg laughed. “The boy is a legend. It’s a pity he doesn’t act anymore, though.”

Otabek shot him a glance. “Act?” Only now he realized that Dima clung to his arm with worried expression.

Oleg shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, he’s probably not really into that stuff, you know.”

Otabek frowned. His chest hurt. “What are you referring to?”

Oleg’s grin became insecure. “The hardcore stuff. You know the cross-dressing and fetish videos. He did that because it was his job, I guess. He was payed for it, he didn’t really enjoyed to be fucked in a school girl’s outfit.”

What?

“I mean, look at him, he’s a real whore dressing up like this but-” He was cut short by Otabek’s fist against his teeth.

“Erasyl!”, Dima cried out, but he didn’t care. He made a fast step forwards, landing a second punch that sent Oleg to the floor. 

No one called Yuri a whore. No one. Not without paying the price.

“Erasyl!!” Dima grabbed his right arm in an attempt to make Otabek stop beating the shit out of this cheeky bastard. “What the hell, what are you doing?!”

It all went really fast. He couldn’t stop. His vision tinted in a bright red he shook off Dima like a pesky insect, grabbed Oleg’s collar. “I’ll kill you”, he hissed, dragged the student up to stand on his feet. However he didn’t have a chance to land another punch as someone grabbed him at the shoulder from behind, someone way stronger than Dima. Otabek spun around, his fist flying. It hit the chest of another guy, someone Otabek didn’t know. He was tall, bulky with muscles, a baton and a walkie-talkie hanging from his belt: a bouncer. Another guy in a similar outfit stood right behind him.

“Hold your horses, dwarf”, he said, unimpressed by Otabek’s punch. “We are all friends here, right?”

“What the fuck, asshole?!”, Oleg screamed behind him but Otabek couldn’t turn around. The hand of the bouncer was too heavy on his shoulder. The red vanished, but the growling of the basses still vibrated in his chest alongside the wrath.

“I’d say you come with me outside”, the guy said, shoving him forward. 

Otabek didn’t even try to struggle, he had no chance. Maybe he could fight one of the bouncers, but two at the same time was impossible as long as he was unarmed. If he had a knife he’d stand a chance, but like this it was the wisest to follow their orders for now, even if it meant losing sight of Yuri temporarily. He followed the first guy, trying to look over to the VIP area, but it was already out of sight.

Making their way through the crowded club over to what seemed to be the back entrance Otabek tried to get the anger under control. Whatever Oleg had been talking about he certainly knew Yuri, knew  _ something _ . He had called him a legend (which to Otabek he certainly was, but in what appeared to be an entirely different context), he had mentioned videos of cross-dressing and fetish content. He had mentioned hardcore stuff and Yuri being payed for being fucked in a school girl’s outfit. That could only mean that Yuri had somehow - Otabek didn’t dare to imagine how - starred in one or more pornographic videos. The thought was absurd. But Oleg had recognized him without a doubt, Yuri whom he had called the son of the club owner. Yuri whom he had called Katyusha.

What the hell had happened while he had been in the coma?

The bouncer opened a door with an ID card and gestured outside. “You can come get your jacket or stuff once you calmed down, bro.” He let Otabek step outside and gave him a brief but not reproachful nod. Then the door fell shut with a loud metallic clank.

Otabek stared at the dark gray paint that was peeling off the door. There was no sign or something that showed there was a club. Just the dirty, dark door, blending in with the dirty wall of a narrow backstreet, a dead end. To his left there was  a dirty cluster of bulk rubbish piled up at the far end. To the right the backstreet connected to a main street, the headlights of the passing cars visible only for a split second from where he stood.

His breath caught. He had been here before.

(The puddles of molten snow shine way to bright, illuminating Yuri’s flushed face as he takes one step closer. 

The asphalt crumbles under their feet and Otabek just can‘t look away from Yuri‘s beautiful eyes. He‘s pretty, so incredibly pretty. His eyes are piercing. He holds Otabek‘s hand, from when he dragged him here and they are close, very close now. “I need to tell you something”, he says, his voice low, an adorable blush on the tip of his nose. After a shaky inhale he continues: “I wanted to wait for the right moment. But there have been many by now and I only recognized them when they were over already and that sucks. So I’ll just say it now and if it’s not the right moment then screw it, because-” With an insecure shrug he presses Otabek’s hand a little harder. “You are a wonderful friend. The most wonderful, at least from what I can tell. And I was really happy with our friendship, but… I don’t think I can go on like that. I’m not sure if you noticed it too, but I feel like there is some tension between us that is not normal for friends.” His eyes wander over Otabek’s face, downwards along his throat and stop at his chest. “I thought it would stop at some point. I really hoped it would disappear, but instead over time it just worsened and now somehow it is too much for me. I can’t bear that anymore, I can’t be silent about that anymore.” He looks up with his beautiful eyes. “The truth is,”, Yuri says with a frown-)

“Erasyl!”

With a painful flinch Otabek found himself back in that street.  _ That _ street.

Dima came running towards him, his pale hands clenching in the leather of Otabek’s jacket. “Erasyl!”, he repeated, before coming to a halt. His breath was heavy, his face flushed. Frowning he stared at Otabek, biting his lip.

“Thank you for bringing my jacket”, Otabek said low-voiced, so that Dima held it out for him. Otabek took it with a nod, freezing. It was end of February after all, not the right weather to be outside in a shirt only. Wait, that was not entirely true. It was March already, the first of March.

The first of March.

“What happened in there?”, Dima interrupted his thoughts, his hands idly fidgeting with the seam of his coat. He looked so lost in the glittering dark of the Moscow night. So innocent, so pure. So wrong.

“I am sorry”, Otabek said. “It might be wise if we’d not interact anymore.”

“Why?”, Dima asked, his voice confused.

With a sigh Otabek narrowed his eyebrows. “I might not be what you see in me. I am actually a very… difficult person. I have secrets that can never be revealed. And those secrets make me dangerous for you.” He looked Dima right in the eyes. “We should part our ways here.”

“You can’t be serious!”, Dima called out. “When you are in trouble let me help you! Let’s talk to Oleg, I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding!”

“It was not”, Otabek corrected him.

“It was! Please, let’s talk this through, Erasyl, we are friends, aren’t we?”

“We are not.”

“But…” The expression on Dima’s face became desperate. “Please, just don’t dump me like that!” He took a few fast steps forward and grabbed Otabek by the shoulders. 

Otabek didn’t move, in order not to accidently hurt Dima, not expecting what was to happen next. With a whimper the redhead pulled up on his toes and tried to press his lips onto Otabek’s.

It took Otabek only one fast movement of his right arm to push the boy away from him. Either it was because he underestimated his strength or because Dima was drunk, but a second later the boy was on the floor with wide eyes.

“Why are you doing this to me?!”, he said, his voice breaking. Tears fell from his eyes.

“I am sorry”, Otabek said once more, tossing his jacket aside and crouching to help the boy up. “That wasn’t my intention, are you hurt?”

“I love you.”

For a moment they stared at each other. Dima crying, Otabek blankly.

“You don’t”, he said. His voice was a mere whisper. “You don’t even know who I am.”

A sob shook Dima’s slender body. “Then let me find out. Show me who you are, so I have a reason to love you.”

For some reason it made Otabek very angry. The word  _ love _ . He gnashed his teeth in disgust. How could Dima say something like this, how could he think that whatever he felt was worthy of the term  _ love _ . He couldn’t love him. They didn’t know each other. Maybe he had a crush. But that was something entirely different. This was far from what the word love described. That he said it like this only showed that he had no idea what love was. But Otabek knew. He knew and it drove him crazy, this dark, burning sensation in his chest that made his body hurt as well as his soul.

“You want to know who I am?”, Otabek whispered, the black sloshing in his chest, pinching long claws through his insides and bones. His voice sounded so threatening it made Dima hunch his shoulders. “I am a shadow. I am a relic. I am a memory from a distant past, covered in blood and hate. I am scarred on the outside, but on the inside I am still bleeding and it will never stop. I am dead, Dima. I am dead and I am here to fight until the day I die for good. I am pain and hate and despair and you’d only harm yourself if you’d dare to remain close to me, no matter how much you think you feel for me. You don’t know. You will never know. I live for  _ him _ and only  _ him _ and all I feel for you is pity and disgust.” 

Dima inhaled shakily. The tears staining his cheeks must feel cold and Otabek raised a hand to wipe away a streak from a reddened cheek with his thumb. He didn’t even feel pity. Only pain. He’d always only felt pain.

“Fuck off”, he whispered. “And never dare to come close to me again. It will only break you.”

“You’re insane”, Dima shrieked and backed away, then struggled up on his feet and ran, leaving Otabek in the cold of the gloomy backstreet.

He let the words sink in. Maybe it was true. Maybe he  _ was _ insane. But it wasn’t very surprising, really. After all that had happened it might have been inevitable. Serious brain damage, three years of a coma and the realization that the love of his life had become a whore doing fetish videos for everyone to see only to end up in the lap of some night club owner didn’t just leave no damage on one’s mind and soul.

“I’m insane”, he murmured, his eyes staring up in the sky that was nothing but black. He was. He was insane. But that was okay. Because he didn’t think he would have come this far being not.

He stood and kept staring at the sky for what felt like hours. It was so cold that he heard his teeth clatter, but he endured it, his jacket in his hand. It was a punishment. That and the cold proved him that he could still feel something that wasn’t pain. There was more, deep inside.

It was the first of March.

Biting his lip he put on his jacket. He’d have to wait a moment before heading back into the club again, so that Dima and his friends had a chance to leave. He didn’t want to run into them on his way back to Yuri.

At the entrance of the club he spotted the bouncer again, among three other guys of similar built and in the black bomber jackets, giving him a brief nod once more.

“That little fag hit on you?” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took one, then held it in Otabek’s direction when he approached. Otabek took one with a nod.

“He left already with his bleeding friend and two chicks in tow. Looked like he cried but still has a cute face, y’know”, the guy went on, lighting his cigarette, then handing over the lighter to Otabek. “Wouldn’t push him out of bed myself, but it’s not like I’m picky. I guess they stand in line for a pretty boy like you. Wouldn’t push  _ you _ out of bed either.” His chuckle sounded like boiling water, or bubbling potato soup.

Trying to play it cool Otabek shrugged. “Not my type”, he said, not specifying if he referred to Dima or the bouncer. Why was that guy so friendly anyway?

“I like your right hook”, the bouncer stated. “It hurt pretty damn well, you know. Good technique.”

There was a moment of silence, before the guy asked: “You’re one of us, I saw the tattoo, but haven’t seen you around here before, you’re new?”

Otabek took a drag. He didn’t panic or anything and it surprised him a little. That guy had just revealed that he was one of Orlov’s men, saying that Otabek was ‘one of them’, telling from the tattoo of the eagle-and-diamond-crest. If he belonged to Orlov that might be a way to get into the system. He just had to remain on friendly terms with this guy and play along. He had memorized his fake back story in every little detail. He just had to start reciting.

“I just came back to Moscow the other day”, he said, nonchalantly, watching the cars passing by. “I didn’t expect it to still be this cold, to be honest.”

The guy chuckled his strange, low chuckle again. “Worse this year, that’s true. Glad you’re little ginger brought your jacket outside, right?” With another huff he held out his hand. “I’m Boris.”

Otabek took his hand. “Erasyl.”

They smoked in silence for a moment, Boris’ colleagues just as taciturn as him and Otabek.

“Kinda quiet tonight”, Boris remarked. “It’s a party for the vor’s little kitten, that’s why. Only for invited guests as usual, so people don’t queue up. They know those parties are exclusive.”

Otabek nodded and flicked the stump of the cigarette on the asphalt of the street. “How long does it go?”, he asked slowly.

Boris moved his head like he was pondering. “They’ll close soon, music has already stopped. The artists usually don’t want to wait for their nose candy too long, y’know.” He grinned. “Wanna go inside again? Although your ginger’s gone? They won’t share their blows with you if you’re not invited. Prolly take the artists to the flat and do it there anyway.”

Otabek shrugged. He did want to. He needed to see Yuri. But maybe he could get some more information about him from Boris. “It’s the blonde”, he pretended to guess. “The vor’s son.”

It made Boris chuckle. “Oh, he’s not his son actually. He just really likes to call him ‘Daddy’ when he fucks him.” He let the stump of the cigarette fall next to his boot and tramped it out. “Or that’s what you hear at least. Might as well be Orlov who came up with it, the kinky bastard. Not that I judge him, Katyusha’s an exquisite little kitten. He’s just into some really sick stuff, Orlov I mean. He can afford it, though. Prolly the only vor to ever be so openly gay, but no one’d dare questioning him ‘bout it. So he keeps his kitten close by and makes him suck his dick whenever he likes. I heard him calling him ‘baby’ and ‘my little girl’, it’s really fucked up.” He laughed out loud. “Literally.”

Otabek had a hard time not throwing up. What the hell had Yuri gotten himself into?

“So he’s exclusive now?”, he asked, referring to the videos he had learned about earlier.

“Guess so. I bet he’s taking the main act home tonight though.” He laughed, then took out another cigarette. Otabek accepted a second one, inhaling the smoke greedily. “Vor still likes to watch him take some dicks, y’know. Kinky bastard”, he added.

The walkie-talkie crackled and Boris plucked it from the belt. “Yeah.”

“Light’s on”, a voice said from the device and with a sigh Boris stomped on his cigarette. The headlights of an expensive German car made them both look over to the street. It had stopped a little farther down the street where the smaller back street ended.

“Time to get the folks out”, Boris explained and nodded towards Otabek. “Can you do me a favor and open the car door for Orlov and Katyusha? So I can go inside already? They use the backdoor of the club. If you wait a little let’s go open a cold one after shift. Won’t take long.”

Otabek managed to grin. “Are you hitting on me now?”

Boris laughed and at the same time gestured to his colleagues who made their way into the club without needing an explanation. “I’m married.” Then he entered the building leaving Otabek behind as the first guests left the club.

The almost-silence was comforting. Only the low humming of the car was to be heard as Otabek made his way over to it. He nodded towards the driver who nodded back a greeting. He must have seen Otabek with the bouncers and think he was one of them.

He had just reached the black Q7’s rear doors when he heard steps approaching, three persons, one in high heels clicking on the asphalt, low pitched laughter. With clenched teeth and a frown he turned around when the steps were just a few meters away.

In the front walked a tall man, his hair gray, his suit black. The top three buttons of his light gray shirt were unbuttoned and Otabek saw a heavy golden necklace and the thick outlines of an old tattoo on the pink skin, the letters ‘ брат’ visible between the tips of an eagle’s wings. Orlov. Behind him a skinny guy with tousled black hair and a short goatee and moustache. He was attractive, but looked older than Otabek remembered. Alexey Zavgorodniy. Clinging to his arm, chuckling and shining like gold: Yuri. His hair a disheveled mess, his cheeks and lips rosy, the thin fingers of his right hand holding onto the DJs arm, likely to support himself in his boots, the leather black, the high metal heels a mass of twisted golden flowers. His left held a tiny white clutch with a knuckle duster as a clasp, golden with a skull and two fangs. His coat was so Yuri it almost made Otabek laugh, leopard print with long black fur trimming decorating the collar and sleeves’ seams. His legs looked incredibly long in the tight leather pants that hung so low they showed the hip bones sticking out like shark fins. He was skinny, skinnier than ever before and it worried Otabek the second he laid eyes on him, but at the same time he was stunned by Yuri’s breathtaking beauty. His smile looked so real as he looked over to Zavgorodniy who smiled back at him.

“Sir”, Otabek said as Orlov approached and opened the door.

“I’ll sit in the front, I don’t want to get in the way”, Orlov said grinning with a smooth, low voice and passed by to head to the front passenger seat.

Zavgorodniy looked up first and got in the car without a word. Otabek couldn’t care less. He looked at Yuri. Watched as the blonde looked up to him, this smile dying on his lips. It happened like in slow motion, his expression becoming one of confusion, but only for a second before he got the smile back on his lips, but only on his lips. His eyes remained widened just the slightest, piercing green, cold in shock. A hiss came from his lips as he pretended that nothing had changed, but he couldn’t fool Otabek. Everything had changed, right here in this moment. No one would notice but them, only Yuri and Otabek. Not Orlov, not Zavgorodniy, not the driver. They didn’t notice that by the time Yuri came to sit on the leather seat, smiling over to Zavgorodniy like nothing had happened, nothing was the same anymore.

Otabek watched as the white fingers clenched in Zavgorodniy’s coat, watched as the skinny body shuffled over to the artist, blonde hair falling over his shoulder. The grip around the car’s door handle tightened when Yuri turned his head to give him the shortest look. His eyes so green.

“Happy birthday”, he said with a smile and slammed the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out  
> https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/163317760174/choosing-and-writing-mim-yuris-outfit-from  
> for Yuri's outfit (which is gorgeous and veeery plisetsky ^^)  
> Writing fist fights is a pain in the ass btw, I had no idea! I kind of like Boris tho. AND poor Dima!! ö.ö Otabek really should not have been so mean... u.u  
> I hope you still liked it! If so, please let me know if you like ^^


	13. Letters from Katyusha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there my lovely folks, here comes another chapter, featuring a little backstory for Otabek, and I personally think it's the best so far ;D  
> I hope you like it!!  
> Btw, Otabiy is Otabek in kind of a turkish dialect, as far as my google skills go at least. His mom said that earlier already, but I forgot to explain in then, sorry ^^'

The whole situation was surreal. It was like in a Hollywood movie, but not only sound and vision. The smell as well, the feel, the mood.

Not even an hour later Otabek found himself in a very dirty small diner, Boris to his left, Iosif and Egor on the opposite side of the sticky table. Maksim had left earlier, he had to wake up his children and take them to school. It was half past 5 already, the morning news playing on the radio behind the counter. The girl on duty had brought them coffee earlier, although the sludge she had poured did only resemble coffee that late at night or that early in the morning. It was hot and it was bitter, but it tasted more like someone had grinded and roasted shoe soles and dead cockroaches and accidentally some coffee beans had fallen into the grinder. It suited the too yellow light and stained wallpaper of the run down shop perfectly, making up to an environment like from a Quentin Tarantino flick.

Otabek sipped on his mug, tried not to grimace and watched as the three bouncers devoured their fried eggs with kolbasa sausage. The look of the greasy dish alone made Otabek’s stomach turn. The thought of what had happened earlier that night gave him a really hard time not throwing up.

He thought that after he was shocked he would be glad. Happy even. Relieved that he had found out about Yuri and that he was alive, that he was well, that he was healthy. And in a way he really was. Of course he had thought about what could have had happened in the three and a half years that he had missed: Yuri could have died in the meantime, fallen ill, moved to another country making it impossible for Otabek to track him down. But here he was, in Moscow, grown up and fine and beautiful. And still Otabek almost wished that everything was different. Because it was true that Yuri was doing fine, but what was also true was the face that he had sat in the lap of the very person who led the clan that had ruined everything. It was a terrible irony and Otabek thought it through again and again how something like that could have happened: On the day of Otabek’s 20th birthday a guy of the Orlov bratva had held Yuri by his throat. And on the day of Yuri’s 20th birthday Orlov himself held Yuri, more figuratively of course, by his throat. What sounded like a very, very bad soap opera script turned out to be Otabek’s life. The realization would have made him laugh if it wasn’t so fucking painful.

He sat and pondered, silently, explaining to Boris who asked if he was alright that he was only tired and needed more coffee, and in the end he was sure that Yuri had never known who had attacked them back then. It was the only way this whole situation made sense. Yuri would never knowingly be on friendly terms with someone who had something to do with whoever had almost killed Otabek. Not that Otabek had witnessed it in person, but the letters and the stories he had heard had told him of Yuri’s pain that was too much for the boy to just get over with and accept the attention of not just someone, but Orlov himself, the man who wore on his chest the symbol of all the suffering Otabek had gone through. Yuri could never be so cold to bear this. So the only explanation was that he had simply not known who he was affiliating with and that it was the same kind of evil that had separated them from each other. And it made sense from a technical point of view, too. The way that guy back then had grasped Yuri’s neck (a memory that caused despair and anger in Otabek like nothing else) had made it easy for Otabek to spot the tattoo, but had made it impossible for Yuri to see it. So it seemed natural that Yuri - other than Otabek - up to this point was not at all aware of who had attacked them more than three years ago. For Yuri it must have been some random gang. So it didn’t even bother him to start interacting with the Orlov bratva; for whatever reason he had done that at some point. Truth be told, it was a mere coincidence that Otabek had been able to made a connection. A coincidence that was as lucky as it was hideous.

And now here he was, with a mug of something that was not more than an excuse for coffee in a run-down, nidorous diner with three of Orlov’s men while Yuri was probably having champagne, coke and sex with an Ukrainian musician and one of the most powerful mafia bosses of all Russia.

“You really should try the kolbasa”, Boris said, mouth full. “Best thing to eat after a long night.”

Iosif nodded on the other side of the table.

Otabek looked up from his fingers. He hadn’t even noticed that he had lit another cigarette. “I don’t eat pork”, he replied and Boris shrugged.

“There’s beef in it, too”, he explained (or guessed? The texture of the sausage didn’t give away if there was any kind of real meat in it), like it made a difference.

“Maybe next time”, Otabek said.

With a hum Boris kept eating. “By the way”, he said after a moment, “do you have a job already? You said that you just returned to Moscow, right? If you didn’t take something you could go collecting with me later. Maksim can really use a day off with his children, but it’s the beginning of the month and we need to keep the revenues coming for the krusha services.” He grinned and Otabek couldn’t help but think it looked a little dumb. “Your appearance seems trustworthy, but not in a harmless way. That’s what the customers need, you know? Someone who’s easy to get along with but who they know they can’t fuck with. Maksim’s a little rough, you know. People cooperate better when they’re not so intimidated. That and he’s not the brightest here…” He tapped the tip of his index finger against his forehead. Egor and Iosif both laughed.

Otabek shrugged. “Yeah, why not.” He had a feeling it was going too smoothly. But he couldn’t hesitate to sneak into the bratva. Maybe this was the only chance he’d get.

“I’m glad, bro”, Boris said with a wide smile and turned to his plate again.

Otabek felt dizzy when he took another sip of his “coffee”.

**ч**

His head hurt when he woke up around noon again. The room was cold and dim from the closed curtains, the sound of the busy street down there humming lowly in his ears. From next door he heard a vacuum cleaner going off and he got out of bed to shower.

The hot water helped him clear his mind and relax his muscles. It felt like he got reset like a machine, shut down and restarted so he was able to boot anew and run on his usual performance level from then on. He had to act steadily if he wanted to achieve something, a feeling he had always known since he had started competing in figure skating on more than regional level back when he had been an 11 year old boy.

It had been serious business then already, although he had not known what serious business meant really. It had been important for his parents and so it had been important for him as well. “Behave, Otabiy, my good boy.” Not that he had had much of a choice. He had learned to act on auto-pilot the way he was expected to act.

No one asked if he wanted to do that. Not only when it came to skating actually. No one asked if he liked the sport. No one asked if he liked the music. No one asked if he liked doing ballet. Of course he didn’t. He liked drinking strawberry soda and reading dog-eared comic books all night under his blanket with the flickering flashlight until the batteries died. He wasn’t allowed to though. He liked climbing trees with Belek to see who made it higher up and he liked picking flowers with Khaligaz on the huge fields right outside Almaty where they used to go with their bicycles in the summer holidays and make up poems about candy and clouds and cougars together.

He wasn’t allowed to, not after his mother had talked to the coach and that one summer she sent Khaligaz and Belek away when they came to pick him up, saying that he was busy with his training. He was sad seeing them leave, but he didn’t let it show and he behaved like he was supposed to do. “Behave, Otabiy, my dear boy.” He learned to not act on what he felt like, but on how he was supposed to act. “Behave, Otabiy, won’t you.” He shut his emotions out and made sure not to make his feelings show outwardly. He became reticent and shy, but his skating eloquent. (Eloquent and lacking expression.) He learned to do what he was expected to do. It was much like pressing a button on a machine. And before he knew it didn’t even make him sad anymore to see Belek and Khaligaz return home from the field or the lake or the woods, dirt-stained and smiling brightly, daisies and primroses sitting in Khaligaz’ braid.

So, in the end, cooling his innermost down and shutting out his feelings was nothing but recycling this old pattern of behaviour that had brought him so far already in his life,

(before he abandons it, his heart beating heavily in his chest as he watches Yuri on the ballet bar, his cheeks rosy and his hair spun sunlight and his eyes, his eyes! Everything is hot in Otabek’s chest and he doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he immediately knows that he wants to be close to this boy, that he wants to be like him, that he wants to earn his respect and for the first time in two years he _feels_ something. You can go only so far stoically, he realizes later on, but feeling takes you to another level and Yuri is nothing but feelings, feelings that wash over Otabek and carry him away, anger and dissatisfaction and rage and whatever it is that makes him want to watch Yuri forever.)

He stepped out of the shower, his hair dripping wet and headed over to the desk where he had left his cellphone behind when he had returned to the hotel. He had saved Boris’ number, but not contacted him yet. The contract of the phone still ran on his real name and he couldn’t use it when it had to do with the bratva. He would go and get another sim card, but first there was something he needed to do.

Dialing the number he sat down on the wrinkled sheets and lit a cigarette from the pack he had bought on the way home. Water dripped on his naked skin and he was freezing, but he endured it.

Khaligaz picked up after the fourth ring.

“Hey”, she said, her voice low and soft and Otabek felt like crying.

“Hey”, he replied, just as lowly.

“It’s good to hear your voice”, she went on. In the background Otabek could hear Zarina making bubbling noises.

“I am sorry for not calling earlier”, he said, drew on his cigarette. “I am even more sorry because I will not be able to call you for some time.” He exhaled the smoke and she hummed, like she didn’t approve of what she had heard, but knew that she couldn’t do anything about it, so he continued: “The number will not work after today. I can not tell you the reasons, but please don’t worry about me. I have… business and it’s hard to explain, but I wanted you to know that I am fine and that there’s no need to worry.”

She chuckled. “The more often you say it, the more I worry, Erasyl, you are aware of that, right?”

“Yes”, he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Whatever you are doing, I know that there is an important reason for it. I trust you, my friend.”

Otabek nodded, biting his lower lip. “If something happens, I will let you know. Can you tell my parents, please? I had a fight with mother, but I don’t want them to worry. If something happens, would you let them know?”

“Of course.” There was a second of silence, then she added: “Nothing will happen that I will have to tell them, Erasyl. I know it. Nothing bad will happen. Believe it yourself.”

His voice became a whisper when he answered: “Yes. Thank you.”

“I’m looking forward to your return”, she said and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Me too.”

**е**

He sent Nad Khaligaz’ contact information along with a plea to let her know if  something happened to him, then he burned Otabek Altin’s sim card in the ashtray. The new one was made out to bearer Erasyl Ten and he used it to drop Boris a line on the way back to the hotel, asking when they would leave to collect the protection money (because that was without a doubt what he had been talking about this morning) and where they would meet. The answer came in a minute later, informing him that they would pick him up in front of a certain cafe in Savyolovsky district in 90 minutes. That gave Otabek time to have lunch at an Italian place halfway down the street between the phone shop and his hotel, before returning to his room to change from jeans and black sweater into a suit.

When he stepped into the hotel after spaghetti carbonara he tried hard not to roll his eyes when he saw the girl from the first day at the counter. She had been around before frequently, but she had never smiled so brightly at him and by far not so obvious.

“Good day, Mr Altin”, she smiled brightly, which reminded him that he needed to find another place to stay. “Someone left something for you.”

Frowning he walked over to the counter where he was handed a white envelope with the name of the Hotel on it. He turned it skeptically.

“Ah, yeah, I put it in the envelope, we are taught to do that because of privacy issues”, she explained.

With a brief “Thank you”, he turned to the elevator, not noticing the slight disappointment in her smile when he gave her the could shoulder. Waiting for the elevator and on the way up he tried to imagine who had left something for him. No one knew exactly where he was. Of the people he had informed that he was in Moscow, no one knew the hotel he stayed. The only person who could have found out about it was Nad, probably using her mysterious contact persons who could undoubtedly find out where he stayed. Maybe after he had dent her the message and burnt the phone card she had needed to reach out for him and left a message for him at the hotel while he had been having lunch. Retrospective it might have been a little careless to not wait and hear back from her about what he had asked for her before destroying the sim card. He had left her no choice but to leave a note for him at his hotel after all.

He entered his room, shrugged off his jacket and shoes and sat down on the chair, before opening the envelope. It wasn’t even glued shut and he frowned about it, especially after the girl from the reception desk hat rambled about privacy issues.

He turned the envelope around. A small sheet of lined paper fell out, folded twice, carelessly, like Nad had been in a hurry. He picked it up to find his name written on one side. _Otabek Altin_ it read, scrawly and strangely familiar. When he unfolded the sheet it hit him like a punch in the guts. It wasn’t Nad’s handwriting.

In hasty, scrawly letters in black pen and Yuri’s unmistakable handwriting it read:

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I case you can not read my handwriting or the link tothe photo for some reason expires, the letter says:
> 
> GO AWAY !  
> NEVER TRY TO  
> APPROACH ME AGAIN
> 
> You WOuLD HAVE  
> BETTER STAYED  
> DEAD
> 
> YOU DON’T BELONG  
> HERE
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you are all crying now lol


	14. Red

 

It faded away slowly this time. The seconds ticking away as his vision came back. A sound like a clock but there was none here in this room. His breathing noisy in his own ears and he just couldn’t see. Only hear.

Drip, drip.

All blurry. The red creeping back into the corners of his eyes where it had come from. Too slow.

Drip, drip.

Bent over he saw something glittering. Tears falling from his eyes, but that was not the sound, easier to hear now that his breathing got softer.

Drip, drip, and the red was still there, between his tears, but different.

The sound of blood dripping on the old carpet.

For a moment he couldn’t remember. Short-circuit, that must have been it. A thought so scary he winced. He could never let it happen again. Forget. Forgetting had brought him here. Forgetting caused all this pain. Forgetting, even if it was for a split second was nothing he could afford, ever again. But his brain had just short-circuited. His control. His awareness.

He turned his right hand, the hand where the blood came from, falling in little crimson pearls, forming small red spots on the carpet. There was a wound at the side of his hand and now that he had turned it, the red ran towards his wrist, then falling from the raising of the bone there. It tickled on his skin and he wondered why it didn’t hurt yet. Why didn’t it hurt? Or did he just not feel it, because something else hurt so much more, his heart, it hurt. It hurt, it hurt. So. Much.

He wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the wound so it would maybe stop bleeding, or maybe not, he didn’t care. Looking up he saw the desk lamp, hanging from the side of the table, the cable still in the socket and keeping it from crashing on the ground, where the shards were, thick green glass shards, green and broken. 

Green and broken.

He sat down on the chair when he noticed that he must have gotten up at some point. Gotten up, his vision all red and in his anger and fear and pain had smashed the lamp with his hand, just because it was too much to keep it inside.

The letter sat on the desk like nothing had happened. Taunting. Like Otabek’s life hadn’t just ended. For the second time already. 

He collapsed onto the desk crying and he cried until there were no tears left in him, until he was drained of all feeling he had left inside of him. The ink on the paper blurred under his tears, taking in all the anger and fear and pain until he was empty. Hollow. A husk.

You       WOuLD HAVE    BETTER STAYED   DEAD, it read and there was some truth in it, because now he felt it.  _ Nothing _ . Like it didn’t make any difference if he was alive or dead. Like there was no need for Otabek Altin in this world. Not now, not after Yuri had dealt him this literal death blow. 

He read the letter again. And again. Until the words didn’t make sense to him anymore. Until it was nothing but black ink on crinkled paper, just words, characters, unconnected and meaningless, unconnected from any feeling.

The blood seeped through his fingers, but slower now.

Drip.

Drip.

It was sticky but he didn’t feel disgust. He felt nothing.

He looked at the glass shards, so green and the color meant something. Green was the color of Yuri’s eyes, he remembered.

Green and broken - Yuri and Otabek.

He stared at the shards and they shimmered, lowly in the fading light of the late Russian afternoon. They shimmered green and it reminded Otabek of something,  something important, something vital.

(Yuri looks at him. His eyes shimmer in the fading light of the late Spanish afternoon. There’s a tiny blush on the tip of his nose and Otabek can’t help but think that it’s adorable. Yuri looks away too fast, but then with his beautiful voice repeats: “Soldier? Me?”, and Otabek doesn’t know why he questions it, because he thinks that this is what Yuri is all about. Strength. Determination. Passion. Hope. Because this is what he unknowingly taught Otabek, this is what-)

he made Otabek feel: strong, determined, passionate, hopeful. It shot through him like a lightning bolt. He was not dead. He had never been. He was here, he was alive and he had everything that Yuri had given him, all these feelings that had made him stand up no matter how many times he had fallen. All these things that had made him suffer through his mother’s drill, that had brought him through the sadness and loneliness that had been his childhood, that had made him fight his way to the top and to Yuri’s side, and that had made him wake up and come back to life. He was here and he was alive and time had changed a lot of things, but it had not changed one thing: His love.

“And I will not give up so easily”, he heard himself hiss through his teeth as he stood from the chair. And there was something else in his chest now. Something strong.

He left the letter behind on the desk, crinkled and blurry like the hope in his heart.

 

**р**

  
  


“What happened to your hand?”, Boris asked when he saw the bandages. A cigarette hung from his lips, the old cassette radio playing half music half static.

“Had some trouble”, Otabek said with a shrug as he got on the car and slammed the door shut.

“Haha, hope you showed those losers who’s the boss!” With a rough laugh and not even waiting for his passenger to get his seatbelt on Boris pulled out and joined the stream of traffic. “We gotta go change cars, my old ride is not very appropriate for- Hey! Watch your ass, fucking son of a horse!” He punched the middle of the steering wheel to honk at the car that had almost crashed into them and the car honked back. Otabek could make out the middle finger of the other driver but tried not to think about if he’d survive another ride with Boris. He had noticed this morning already that the streets in Moscow were a battle field on their own when you were not on a motorcycle that could easily dodge the cars and it had been relatively calm this morning. Lighting a cigarette he figured where the scratches and dents on Boris’ old Lada came from.

“What car is it?”, he asked instead and put his cigarettes and lighter away. The injury on his hand pulsed slightly under the bandages. He had wrapped his hand himself with the materials he had found in the first aid box in the cabinet under the sink. The bandages were unsurprisingly of low quality but with his practice from the kickboxing training where he had become used to taping and wrapping his ankles and wrists himself it had turned out pretty decent even with the bad bandages. He thought he might have better sewn the cut, but he didn’t have time for that now and one scar more or less really didn’t make a difference on him anymore anyway.

“Any of the Audis”, Boris said. “I usually take a black one.”

“Very precise”, Otabek said with a grin and it made Boris laugh.

“I don’t give a shit about cars, really”, he explained and stubbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. “As long as they run more or less smoothly I am okay with anything. How ‘bout you, you into rides?”

“Bikes more”, Otabek replied. “But I have some favourite cars too, sure.”

Boris took a corner sharply, making the rosary that hung from the rear mirror dangle violently. “Then you’ll sure like Orlov’s fleet. He has some nice pieces down there, even I can tell. And there’s Katyusha’s ride, too. A naughty little beast, that’s the car  _ and _ the boy.” He laughed again, loudly and clueless.

Otabek didn’t think about how strange it was to him to imagine Yuri driving, much less trying to imagine what Boris could have meant by ‘naughty’ when speaking of a car. By the time they arrived in the carpark he realized it was nothing he ever could have thought of.

Boris didn’t even bother to lock his Lada when he got off, but just slammed the door shut and walked over to the cars lined up like in a museum. Otabek followed with wide eyes.

“Those are all Orlov’s?” 

“Only the ones he needs here in Moscow”, Boris said as they walked along the shimmering paint, chrome and carbon fiber. “We go pick up the key from Aljosha in the office upstairs.”

Quickly counting Otabek came to the conclusion that there were a total of 16 cars, starting from a handful of relatively casual Audi limousines with black paint and tinted windows to a burgundy Jaguar E-Type and a silver Porsche Panamera. As they walked he spotted a green Volkswagen Scirocco and a yellow Lamborghini Urus.

“He likes his cars in flashy colors”, Otabek commented making Boris laugh, then nodded towards the car in the far back. “What happened here?”

“The Audi?”, the other said and looked to the black car. “That’s Katyusha’s, what I mentioned earlier.”

It wasn’t just a car though. It was a matte black Audi R8 coupé V-10 and ‘naughty’ was not the word. Otabek looked the exquisite machine up and down and whistled lowly. Yuri had stayed true to his 15 year-old self, the car way over the top. But it was undoubtedly his, the licence plate said K 666 XA, then 177 for Moscow City. KXA for Katyusha. And the Number of the Beast  _ so _ Yuri. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“He doesn’t look like he’d drive such a monster”, Otabek said, following Boris to the door in the back.

“He doesn’t most of the time actually. He has a driver who came with a car. Was a present for his birthday last year or something.” Boris shrugged and pressed the electric bell next to the metal door, then held his face so that the camera in the upper left corner would get his face. “Those people have other problems than we do”, he added with a shrug. The lock of the door hummed and Boris pressed the handle down.

They entered a plain vestibule, the concrete painted in stained white framing an elevator door. Boris pressed the button and a moment later the lift arrived with a  _ ping _ .

“The whole building is Orlov’s”, Boris explained as they entered the elevator, then pressed the button for ‘Business office’. “The entire block actually, but here’s where he has his office and the loft on the upper floors.” He pointed at the three buttons at the top. The third said ‘Orlov Kompaniya’, the two on top said ‘Katyusha Anatoliev Orlov’. 

Otabek stared at it in disbelief.

“The rest is office floors for some banks and the ministry of transport, but they have a separate entrance and don’t use this elevator. We can only make it up to the business office though, if you want to go all the way up you’d need a code and visual confirmation”, Boris rambled on, oblivious of Otabek’s state of mood. “I’ve never been up  there, I’m too unimportant, but at least we can get some nice cars to drive, right?” He elbowed Otabek in the side, who managed to mimic a chuckle. “I could let you drive, you’ll enjoy it more than me anyway. Let’s see if Aljosha has a good day today. It’s still monday after all.”

Nodding absentmindedly Otabek still had a hard time to process what he had just heard. 

Yuri lived here, right in this building, not even a 20 minute drive from his hotel. The plate holding the buttons, only 6 in total, didn’t have the number of the floor next to it, but from what Otabek had seen of the building from the outside he guessed that the three top floors must be around the thirtieth floor at least. Above the buttons sat a control panel with buttons for 10 digits and a LCD display. So this was used to type in the code that brought you to the restricted floors. Otabek spotted a camera in the corner of the elevator. He supposed that this was used for general security matters as well as the visual confirmation that as Boris had explained was necessary on top of the entrance code. He pondered a moment, then came to the conclusion that there was no way he could simply go up there and enter Yuri’s apartment, not even now that he had already made it into the building itself. Trying to sneak in was just as futile as forcing a way inside with the help of violence. If you were not welcomed into the building and then the upper floors there was no way you could get in. It was bitter but he had not expected anything else from an underground boss. Orlov had not made it that far by being careless.

The elevator came to a halt and with another  _ ping _ the doors slid open. Stepping out behind Boris Otabek found himself in a spacy office with a reception desk much like in the police archive he had been at before. The man behind the counter looked up in what seemed to be a very bad mood.

“Morning Aljosha”, Boris greeted, but the man made a face.

“‘Morning’ you say”, he huffed, “like I haven’t been here for nine hours already. Only because you lazy ass bouncer fuckers sleep all day doesn’t make it morning for the rest of us at fucking quarter to six.” He looked over to Otabek. “That the new guy Iosif talked about? The Korean?”

Otabek managed not to frown at that when Boris already jumped in: “Yeah, started beating up some fags at ‘shade tonight”, he laughed. “Had to save the poor guy before Erasyl here shreddered him.”

Aljosha laughed like a horse and held out his hand. “Understandable. Welcome back in Moscow, brother.” Otabek shook his hand, not moving a muscle of his face as Aljosha pressed his thick fingers in the cut under the bandages accidentally. “Let me guess, you came for the car?”

Boris nodded. “Put Erasyl here on the roster, I’m in no mood to drive today.”

Aljosha frowned, then typed something into his computer. “Which one do you want? A3 sportback and A4 estate are available. Need to keep the Q7 here for Katyusha’s guest. They’re still at it up there.”

“An A3 is fine”, Otabek answered, his voice a little shaky. By ‘guest’ Aljosha must have referred to Alexej Zavgorodniy. So he was still here, up there with Yuri. Inhaling deeply Otabek kept his emotions under control.

“Alright”, the man said, then opened a desk drawer and took out a key with a tag, handing it to Otabek. “There you go. And now get out of here and leave me alone.”

“Thanks Aljosha, see you tomorrow!”, Boris said with a wave of his hand and Otabek nodded then followed Boris into the elevator again. When the door had closed behind them Boris chuckled. “Usually he’s all bitchy and starts yelling rules for handling the cars at new guys, like ‘Don’t smoke in the fucking cars, shithead’ and stuff. But he seems to like you.” He gave Otabek a wink.

‘Go collecting’ as Boris had called it was really not much trouble as Otabek found out in the following hours. They drove from shop to shop and from office to office, were greeted politely and handed envelopes (which without a doubt contained larger amounts of money by the weight of them) without any complaints. In one of the shops, a small printery and copy shop, the daughter of the owner served them vodka (for Boris) and tea (for Otabek) while the grand child, a brightly smiling five year-old girl with wavy chocolate brown hair, demonstrated Otabek how good she was at drawing in a dog-eared coloring book. Otabek murmured affirmatively at the chaos of colorful lines in thick crayons appearing on the paper, until the mother shooed the girl away to her room. “I’m sorry”, she said a little embarrassed as she closed the book, “she likes men with deep, smooth voices.” 

“It’s fine, she did not bother me”, Otabek said and helped her collecting the crayons  that had splayed out on the tea table.

“Please”, she said, “no need to help me, it’s Tasja’s mess”, but of course Otabek didn’t stop until the crayons were in the box again.

“Thank you”, she said with a light blush and hurried to take the book and box after her daughter.

“The father died two years ago”, Boris explained later as they were in the car again. “Had cancer, but they diagnosed too late.”

Otabek hummed as he waited for the light to turn green.

“We stopped the charges for the krusha for that time and helped out with the funeral a little, I guess that’s why the mother feels like she’s in our debt.”

The light switched and Otabek sped up. “Must be hard bringing up the girl by herself”, he murmured. “Even if the grandfather is there.” He knew it was hard. Yuri had told him many times how it had been for him and his grandfather, just that he had not even had a mother who loved him and who cared for him. “At least she still has that part of the family”, he added eventually and Boris nodded.

“Family is the most important. How ‘bout you, do you have children?”

“No.”

“A girl?”, Boris kept probing with a smirk. “Or a guy? Didn’t hang out at the ‘shade for women I guess? C’mon, you’re such a pretty boy, I guess you have one in every part of the city!”

Otabek smiled almost unnoticeable under his frown. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’m a little… old fashioned, I guess.”

“Hmmm”, Boris pursed his lips. “So one true love that you’ll recognize when you see it and that will last forever?” He leaned back and stared out of the window, before in an unusual low voice concluding: “Yeah, I guess something like that really exists.”

“I wondered”, Otabek broke the silence after some minutes, “the way everyone’s addressing each other, with just the given names; where I come from you don’t do that. I learned that you use both names, unless you are…” 

“Brothers”, Boris said smiling when Otabek didn’t find a word right away. “Because that’s what we are. If you wear the crest on your skin, no matter where, no matter how big or how visible, then you have found you a family. When you are in the bratva you have no worries. There might be people who don’t like each other, but we are all brothers here and we treat each other like brothers. Maksim, Egor and Iosif, that son of a bitch Aljosha, they all are close to my heart. Even Orlov himself or his boy, it’s as strong as blood ties.” He scrutinized Otabek for a moment, then added: “I guess they didn’t teach you that in Korea.”

Otabek didn’t have a chance to comment on any of that, when Boris’ phone started ringing.

The man fished it out of his pocket and took the call with a “Speaking of the devil, Aljosha, I was just bitching to Erasyl about you. ...Yeah. Hm… yeah, I guess.” He sighed, then turned to Otabek: “Turn around we have to head back to the office. Something’s wrong with the ocelot.”

It was probably the strangest instruction Otabek had ever received, but he didn’t let his confusion show and turned at the next opportunity. While still on the phone Boris changed the destination in the navigation system, humming affirmatively into his phone once in a while. Whatever had happened, it seemed to take some time to explain it. When they were halfway back to the office Boris finally hung up.

“Fucking Goood”, he said stretched. “See, this is what I mean when I say these people have different problems than we do. So obviously the ocelot ate cocaine or something and is about to bite the dust, but Sergej is away with the Q7 to take Katyusha’s guest to the airport and the boy is too hysteric to drive. So Aljosha thought he’d call us to take the ocelot to the fucking doc, because we are obviously the only people reasonable enough to play driver for the critter. That or our work is the only thing that can wait right now. I’m really not sure if they think that people treat us to tea all day, but here we are and a job is a job. I hope you are ready for bloody murder cries or however that goddamn proverb was.”

“I guess”, Otabek said, witnessing how Boris lit a cigarette. “Hey, isn’t smoking forbidden in the ca-”

“Shut up already!”, Boris  laughed and let down a window. “I’m too old for that kind of bullshit.”

They were there in a matter of minutes and Boris only managed to throw the cigarette stump out of the window when they had passed the guard station next to the approach of the carpark. Slowing down Otabek prepared to steer the A3 next to the door in the back when he saw him.

He wore a flawlessly fitting ensemble of a long dog-tooth checked blazer with suit pants in the same pattern, a thin shimmering black sweater that looked like it was made of silk but knitted, and heavy black boots. His hair was styled in a loose braid that fell over his shoulder like woven gold. He looked harried, his eyes reddened but he was stunningly beautiful. In his arms sat - motionless - a literal ocelot, a dwarf leopard and Otabek wondered why he was even surprised.

Boris got out of the car and Yuri hurried over to him. “What the fucking hell took you so long?!”, he yelled and it sent a shiver down Otabek’s spine. Yes, that was  _ his _ Yuri.

He heard Boris murmur something like “traffic” and turned off the engine, putting on the hand brake.

“We take the R8!”, Yuri ordered and handed the key to Boris. “Every second counts, he’s all weak already.” The ocelot made a pitiful, moaning sound that echoed from the walls of the underground carpark like a banshee’s scream. “Come on, hurry the fuck up!”

“Here”, Boris said and tossed the key over to Otabek who just had gotten out of the A3, catching it effortlessly. “Erasyl drives, he’s better at it than me.”

Yuri looked over to him and catching sight of the familiar face he became even paler than he had been before if possible. “No!”, he protested angrily. “Boris, you will drive, this is not a plea!”

“I thought every second counts”, the man shrugged and Otabek, who had headed over to unlock the R8 already saw the wheels working behind Yuri’s pretty forehead. He hadn’t changed a bit.

“What will it be?”, he asked. “Coming or not?”

“Fine.” With a hiss Yuri stomped over to the car, Otabek’s eyes following him. “Why are you staring at me, asshole?”

It was bizarre. Otabek watched as Yuri got into the black car, the ocelot still whimpering, his eyes so piercing and green. But there was something else. A light blush on the tip of Yuri’s nose. An almost unnoticeable amount of red.

“I’ll return the A3”, Boris said and Otabek nodded, then got into the car as well. The sounds the cat made got louder when he started the engine.

“Get the location of the veterinarian into the navigation system, please”, he asked Yuri and the blonde did it without complaining while they made their way up to the streets.

“Turn right”, a female voice said and Otabek did so. The vet was only some minutes away but the ocelot really sounded like it was coming to an end and somewhere on the way Yuri started sobbing quietly.

“It will be alright”, Otabek said, only to have Yuri yell back at him: “Don’t talk to me!!”

With a hum Otabek focused on the traffic. 

He didn’t have to press things now. Yuri was clearly upset enough and he didn’t want to make things worse. Chances were low that he would get something useful out of Yuri like this. He’d wait until the cat was secure. He’d wait. Mere minutes didn’t make a difference now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's not too hurried in the end ö.ö  
> I really hope you liked it!  
> If you want to know more about the cars, go check my tumblr @ captainoceanwhirl  
> Who's hyped for the next chapter?! \\(*~*)/


	15. Dawn in Moscow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for being late AND sorry for not answering to your comments lately, I've been extremely lazy, but I will get my ass moving again and answer, promise!! I read and am happy about every single one of them though!!  
> Also, my laptop is kind of dying, like, it's been shutting down frequently while I was in the middle of typing (like, 8 times during the last part and not coming back up again unless I took out the battery) and I had a really hard time finishing this chapter without losing my nerve. Maybe it will survive until I'm back home in two weeks and can use my bf's computer, but if not I don't think I can write on my phone, so it might be possible that I can't update if the worst case happens. I will write it into the description of this fanfiction though, so if there's no new chapter next week, check it out please. Keep your fingers crossed it won't happen tho ^^'

 

They arrived at the vet’s place at half past nine. The sky was ink black and the cold hanging in the early spring air noisy once Otabek cut the growling engine of the R8. Yuri still cried, but it was silent now, not the heartbreaking sobbing from earlier. The ocelot hadn’t made a sound in minutes but when Otabek checked the seemingly lifeless body of the exotic cat he noticed the motion of weak breathing, so he hurried to get out of the car and head over to open the door for Yuri and his pet. The blonde got out of the car on shaky legs, not even looking up to Otabek but making his way up the few stone steps to the house they had came to a halt in front of. 

A middle aged man stood by the door in blue jeans and a white sweater despite the cold.

“Let’s get him inside”, he said without a greeting and led the way for Yuri and Otabek to follow him into the house.

Otabek didn’t have much time to pay attention to his surroundings. That and he had never been in a veterinarian’s clinic, so he didn’t know if there was anything special about the rooms they rushed through until the vet gestured Yuri to put down the ocelot onto a metal table that had been covered with what looked like a paper sheet. A young woman who had been waiting in the room already smiled at them as if she wanted to apology and handed Yuri a clipboard.

“You know the procedure”, she said in a very calm voice that showed that she was very much used to upset pet owners. “You can fill it out in the waiting room. I plugged in the vending machine if you want coffee or tea.”

Yuri grabbed the clipboard like his life depended on it. “You’ll help him”, he asked in a hushed voice, his eyes wide and reddened. 

“Of course”, the woman said and moved her head towards the door.

Otabek took the hint and placed his hand on Yuri’s shoulder softly. “Let’s let them work”, he murmured and green eyes shot up to his, but Yuri obeyed and with a last look over to the ocelot let Otabek guide him outside.

The waiting room had a handful white chairs in front of a white wall. Big potted plants decorated the corners that weren’t occupied by said vending machine. It reminded Otabek of the room he had woken up in so long ago, only the strange plant on the white metal pedestal catching his eye with it’s colors. Now that he thought about it he realized that he had never found out who had brought the weird flower, nor did he know what had happened to  it after they had released him from the hospital. Not that he was very much of a flower lover but still he felt something like pity for the plant that had stood by his side for the time of his rehabilitation and before that. He had not payed enough attention to details like that, a thought that stung a little in his chest.

Yuri had flopped onto one of the seats, staring at the form clipped to the board with dull eyes.

“Do you want coffee?”, Otabek asked lowly, heading over to the vending machine. When Yuri looked up at him he could see more tears forming, before dripping from the dark golden lashes silently as soon as Yuri nodded. Otabek struggled to look away and focus on the vending machine instead, trying not to think about how Yuri could be so devastated and still so incredibly beautiful. He pressed the button for black coffee and the machinery came to life, spitting out a paper cup and the steaming black liquid after some moments. He took it out and pressed the same  button once again. The coffee smelled way better than what they had served in the restaurant this morning and when after seconds the second cup was ready he walked over to hand Yuri one of them inhaling the bitter scent of the second one.

Yuri took the cup without a word and violently trembling hands, the yet untouched clipboard resting on his slender tights.

“What’s that about”, Otabek asked after sitting down next to Yuri.

“A questionnaire about the pet”, Yuri answered, his voice hoarse. He blew the steam away from the coffee and tried taking a sip, but it was too hot so he stared down at the dark liquid waiting for it to cool down.

“Shall I answer it for you?” Yuri’s hand shook like crazy, it would likely be hard to fill in the many small boxes and blank spaces in Yuri’s condition. “You’d need to tell me the answers though.”

The green eyes wandered over to him silently screaming helplessness.

“Here we go”, Otabek murmured and placed his coffee on the seat next to him carefully before fetching the clipboard from Yuri’s knees.

“ _ What is the presenting complaint? When did it begin,  _ slash _ , how long has it been going on? Does pet seem to be experiencing any pain or discomfort? If so, on a scale of 1-10 how much? _ ”, Otabek read out loud. “Well, that’s kind of obvious I’d say, I guess we don’t need to fill that in. Okay, this:  _ Does anything trigger the problem? _ ” He looked over to Yuri who bit on his lower lip. “Boris said he ate cocaine”, Otabek suggested as Yuri kept silent. It caused the blonde to inhale shakily and nod, so Otabek wrote it down in small easy-to-read letters. “Do you know how much it was?” He wanted to make the statement as detailed as possible, but Yuri shook his head, lowering it in the process. “I didn’t pay attention. I didn’t-” A sob interrupted him.

“It’ll be fine.” Judging by how weak the animal had looked Otabek wasn’t sure if he’d be proven right in the end, but it was probably what Yuri needed to hear. “Let’s just finish the form so the vets can do their job properly, okay? He’s in good, capable hands now, he’ll be alright in no time.” When Yuri slowly nodded he continued: “ _ Does pet have any known allergies? Is your pet currently on any medications? Is your pet kept indoors, outdoors, or both? _ ” Yuri kept shaking his head frequently, answering the last question with a murmured “indoors”.

When Otabek read out the next question, he frowned: “ _ Does your pet have any access to trash, chemicals, or any other hazardous materials? _ ” He began writing the same answer as before, muttering “Well, we answered that already, right?”, but looked up when he heard the sound of a full paper cup on the light gray floor. The beverage had fallen and Yuri looked down at it in shock, then inhaled audibly and started sobbing again.

“It’s my fault”, he cried, hiding his overflowing eyes behind his hands. “If only I had put it away like usually. But I was so irresponsible again and now he will die and it’s all my fault!” Bending forward with shaking shoulders his braid fell over his shoulder. Otabek noticed that it was so long it almost reached the floor in front of Yuris feet that was covered in coffee. He put the clipboard aside, then reached for the braid so that it wouldn’t hang into the coffee and draped it back over Yuri’s spine. The blonde didn’t even seem to notice, crying loudly and it made Otabek’s heart ache.

“Yuri”, he said gently, about to place his hand on the shoulder that was shaken by violent sobs again but flinched when Yuri in the blink of an eye was on his feet.

“Don’t call me that! I’m Katyusha! And I don’t know you!”, he yelled and made a step away from Otabek. His eyes had changed from dull and broken to piercing cold in an instant and he glared at Otabek, tears shimmering on his pale cheeks. “Don’t touch me! I need to... “ He shook his head, then yanked his phone out of his pocket and with hurried steps made his way over to the entrance door. “I’ll call Daddy.”

Otabek watched him leave outside wordlessly. To say that he was surprised was a horrible understatement. He stared at the door as it slowly fell shut behind the blonde, then at the abandoned paper cup in a puddle of thin coffee. He picked up his own and took a sip, but didn’t taste anything. 

Abandoned.

Tossed aside.

Fallen and forgotten, like a cheap, tasteless coffee from a vending machine, that’s how he felt. Not even worth picking up from the floor. “ _ I don’t know you _ ”, what did that even mean? “ _ Don’t touch me _ ”, like he was a total stranger, someone who didn’t belong, who wasn’t welcome. Could it be? Had Yuri really forgotten him? Was he just another foreign face in a sea of faces that was the Orlov bratva? A random stranger who happened to be here because he knew how to drive Yuri’s expensive car. A nobody in a suit and with a tattoo somewhere on his skin. Had Yuri really not recognized him? After all those years it wasn’t so unlikely, was it? They had changed, both of them. Time had changed them and that Otabek would recognize Yuri in a million didn’t mean that it would inevitably work the other way around as well. Maybe the years had really made Yuri forget his past life. Maybe his plan to leave everything and everyone behind had worked out thoroughly. Maybe this really wasn’t the Yuri he longed for, despite his unforgettable eyes. He was without a doubt unforgettable, but maybe - or likely - Otabek hadn’t been quite that unforgettable in the end.

With a sigh Otabek picked up Yuri’s cup from the floor. He didn’t have tissues with him so he couldn’t clean up the mess the coffee had made on the light linoleum covered floor. He got up and let the two containers fall in the small trash bin, then headed over to the door, opening it slowly and peeking outside.

Yuri sat on one of the stone stairs, his shoulders hunched and his phone in his hand.

“I don’t- don’t know if he will m- make it”, Otabek heard him say, hiccups interrupting his words. “They sent me out of the room and- and now I don’t know- if they can help him.” He snuffled. “Please Daddy, I need you. P-please don’t leave me alone now, I need you here with me.”

It was the most painful thing Otabek had ever heard. Clenching his jaws he walked over to Yuri, shrugging off his jacket on the way. Yuri winced when Otabek draped the jacket over the shaking shoulders, looking up with reddened eyes, but turning away right afterwards again. “Please Daddy”, he whined into the phone. Otabek’s insides convulsed and he turned away, heading inside again. He didn’t need to hear more.

He sat in silence, he didn’t even know how long. There were low voices in the other room, stifled by the door. Seconds ticked by on the clock above the reception desk endlessly.

He wasn’t even hurt. He wasn’t concerned about Yuri or the cat. He wasn’t tired or exhausted or bored or impatient. He just felt nothing. But that wasn’t true, because there was this pulsing black thing in his chest, like jelly, but bitter and dark. He could keep it inside and pretend it wasn’t there, but it peeked out from between his heart and ribs and lung just like it was waiting for the perfect moment to break free. He kept it inside. He didn’t know what it was, but he kept it inside because he really didn’t want to see what it was.

After a second or an hour Otabek heard the sound of a car stopping outside, then a car door being shut and a few moments later the door to the clinic opened again. When he looked up he caught sight of Yuri, still crying, Orlov’s arm around his shoulder.

“Here, sit down, baby”, the man said in a calm voice and Yuri did it, but only after Orlov had taken the jacket from his shoulders. He held it out to Otabek who had gotten up and took it with a nod.

“Thank you for taking care of him”, Orlov said. His voice sounded gentle and honest and Otabek wanted to feel disgust when he looked at him, but he couldn’t. “I’ll take over from here, you can call it a day.” He smiled a small, friendly smile when Otabek only nodded and got into his jacket again. “It’s relieving to know that there’s still some honorable people around to take care of things the old way and not let a kitten freeze to death outside. You have my thanks.”

“Anytime”, Otabek said, the bitterness in his voice going unnoticed. Orlov nodded and turned to sit beside Yuri again who leaned into an embrace that looked so gentle, so  _ loving _ that Otabek wanted to scream. He didn’t though, but turned and left the clinic, left the house, left Katyusha and Orlov in the warmth of the brightly lit waiting room, stepping outside into the dark, cold night.

 

**а**

 

(He lies on his bed in his apartment in Almaty and there’s a scent of almond and honey washing over him like the warm waves of the summer sea as Yuri rubs his head against his shoulder. It’s a perfect moment and he wants it to never end, but he also knows that it’s only perfect  _ because _ it can not last. So he inhales this wonderful scent that’s coming from spun gold and resists the urge to press his lips into the shining mess for a kiss that speaks of love more than words ever could. He’s so happy, but it also breaks his heart to know that Yuri is about to wake up and chuckle dozily and then will distance himself from Otabek although it’s really not necessary. He knows because Yuri has followed this same procedure for four days now and the more often it happens the more it makes Otabek’s heart ache in his chest.

Yuri shifts in the warm sheets and his eyes drift open, dark golden lashes and tourmaline and as he spots Otabek he chuckles and distances himself a little from him.

“Morning”, he breathes smiling and Otabek smiles back, because he is so happy and at the same time it hurts.

“Good Morning.”)

Now and here the happiness was nothing but a distant memory, fading away in the twilight of the cold hotel room. He had returned the car and taken a taxi to the hotel, then headed over to the gym working out like a maniac to make the pressure on his chest go away, but it had not worked. When his knees had become wobbly after almost two hours he had returned to his room, showered and sat down on the edge of the mattress in nothing but track pants, his hair dripping cold water on the naked skin of his shoulders and arms.

The diamond and the eagle had assimilated into his skin by now, looking up at him from his right lower arm. He traced the blueish-black lines with the fingers of his left hand. The swelling had almost disappeared so that in a matter of days it would look like he had always had the crest on his skin.  _ Brotherhood _ , the writing said, but the word meant nothing for him. He recalled how Boris had explained that if you wore this on your skin you had found yourself a family. He could not relate to this. Maybe for anyone else it was true, but for him it was the opposite: he had lost everything. Eventually he had even lost his hope. Yuri didn’t want him anymore. It was all over.

Breathing deeply he reached out for the gun on the nightstand. The black metal shone hazily in the light of the bedside lamp, feeling cold on his skin. The healing cut on his hand stung a little when he wrapped his fingers around the grip. He looked down on the gun, then stretched his arm out, supporting it with the left like in the gun range. Inhaling deeply he closed his eyes. The weight of the gun was strangely familiar by now and his heartbeat calmed down, his breathing evened and his mind became blank. It was soothing and comforting in the most disturbing way, but after nothing else had worked to help him calm down, this was the only thing that had come to his mind to keep this ugly black thing in his chest at bay.

He sat there for some time, realizing what had become of him. He was nothing now. What he had realized back in St. Petersburg had become the awful truth: He was nothing without Yuri. Just that back then he had still had hope. Right now even that was gone. So what difference did it make now that he had woken up from his coma? He had left his family behind, his parents, Khaligaz and her little family, his fellow skaters who had become friends somewhere on the way. He had turned away from them in order to take any measurement necessary in his search for Yuri. And it had not been futile. He  _ had _ found him after all. Or at least what was left of him: Orlov’s little pet tiger Katyusha.

He could have accepted that as well. He was not stupid and he had expected that things would not be the same as they had been. Maybe his own feelings hadn’t changed. However, that everyone else had changed wasn’t much of a surprise. He just had not been able to imagine that Yuri of all people was the one who had changed to drastically. It was true that Otabek still could see him through all the glamour and glitter time had buried him under, that his eyes were still the same Otabek had so fatally fallen in love with ten years ago, but Yuri had said it himself: He had become Katyusha. And it was also true that Otabek couldn’t change that. He had come too late.

The sound of the Grach’s security lock made him startle. He had his arm still stretched out, pointing the gun at the wall in front of him. He watched his left thumb moving away from the small metal piece it had pushed upwards without him even noticing. The cartridge sat in the gun, making it heavy in his hand, like an anchor he needed to keep in his grasp if he wanted to live. If he wanted to live. And if not. If he pulled the trigger now he’d shoot a hole in the wall. If he got up and returned to the Orlov Kompaniya office he could shoot a hole in Orlov’s chest. If he bent his arm now, pointing it at his temple, he could shoot a hole in his head. It would be so easy to do it, to end it all right here. Bent the arm, pull the trigger. He wouldn’t have to fight. He wouldn’t have to struggle to keep this black thing inside his chest. He wouldn’t have to endure the pain. He wouldn’t have to remember his eyes ever again, those beautiful green eyes. Bent the arm, pull the trigger. Not that complicated, really.

With a huffed laugh he lowered his arm, placing the gun in his lap. “You’re insane”, he whispered, smiling. He was sure now that he was. Insane enough to bear it even longer, the pain and the struggle and the memories.

He placed the gun on the nightstand again, then laid down on the bed and switched off the light. 

It was two in the morning and he wasn’t even shocked that he was insane. Insane enough to still be in love after all.

 

**Р**

 

There was a sound. It came from the right. It was dark, pitch-black in his room actually, and the sound didn’t belong there. It had never been there before.

Otabek laid motionless, keeping his breath low. He heard a car passing by in the street and an ambulance in the distant. Nothing unusual. But there was also this very small sound, like a mouse scratching the wall or a needle on a metal plate. He listened carefully. It came from the door.

There was a tiny  _ click _ and then the scratching sound stopped. In its place Otabek heard the very low sound of the door swinging open.

Someone had unlocked the door and gained access.

Carefully, without producing a sound, Otabek shifted to the side to where the nightstand was. He heard low steps on the old carpet inside his room, only two, then the door was being closed very carefully. From where the intruder stood, only a few steps inside the room, they could not see the bed, the wardrobe was in the way. Otabek reached out towards the nightstand. When the door closed with a barely audible  _ ga-tan _ he grasped the gun, covering the sound of the metal on wood with the sound of the door being closed, then pulled his arm back.

It was surprising to himself how calm he was. He had no idea why someone would  break in into his hotel room, or who it could be, but he didn’t panic at all. Maybe it was a regular burglar. Maybe it was someone dangerous. That way or the other, now that he had gotten ahold of the gun he had an advantage. He wouldn’t shoot right away, but try to overbear the intruder, hoping they didn’t have a gun or a knife or at least were too surprised to make use of it. They didn’t know he was awake and maybe they didn’t even expect him to be in the possession of a gun. He had a good chance to prevail.

Slow steps came over to the bed. Otabek could tell that it was only one person, trying to make as little sounds as possible. The intruder seemed to hesitate at the end of the bed, stopping for a moment, then even slower proceeded alongside the bed. It must be hard to see anything in the darkness of the room, especially if you were not familiar with the position of the furniture. 

Otabek had his eyes half closed, making it even harder for him to keep an eye on the silhouette of the person slowly coming closer. The person was not very tall, dressed in all black and therefore luckily contrasting from the dark gray of the nocturnal room. They were still too far away and seemingly having trouble to make out his form on the dark blue sheets, so Otabek held back. He’d have to wait for the person to be closeby to ambush them. If they were too far away they could evade and he’d lose an advantage. He’d have to be patient, it was only a few more steps. 

Some more.

Two more.

One more.

With a swift motion Otabek rolled to the side, swinging his legs out of the bed and dodged behind the intruder, then gripped their shoulder with his left hand and spun them around, tackling them onto the mattress in the motion. The intruder made a surprised sound, then Otabek was over them, his left hand on a bony chest, his knees on the person’s legs and the barrel of the gun pressed to the throat of the unwelcomed guest. In the dark Otabek saw the intruder pressing their arms onto the mattress in a gesture of surrender and for a moment he thought that it could be a risk to let them have their hands free, but if the person would try anything funny, he’d just blow their brain out and to make the intruder understand this intention he pressed the barrel harder against the soft flesh of the throat.

“Don’t, don’t!”, the person winced and Otabek grit his teeth.

“What do you want?”, he hissed.

“Shit, please, don’t fucking shoot me!”

The wording more than the voice made the blood in Otabek’s ears rush. Could it be? 

Pinning down the intruder with the gun he let go of their chest and reached out for the lamp on the nightstand. When the bulb came to life flickering, they both squint their eyes a little, but Otabek’s widened right away.

Yuri looked back at him with pale face and Otabek stared at him for a second, the black metal of the gun against the white skin of Yuri’s throat. 

With a sharp inhale he pulled the gun away from Yuri and got up to stand.

The blonde sat up and rubbed his fingers against the spot where the barrel had pressed into his skin, then looked up to Otabek again with shimmering green eyes.

Otabek had a hard time processing what was happening. He stood petrified in nothing but jerseys, the gun still in his hand and adrenaline rushing through his veins. He could feel his heart beat heavily in his chest and Yuri’s eyes on him as the boy stared back at him.

“What are you doing here”, he finally managed to say, just to see Yuri frown at him.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing”, he replied and crossed his arm before his chest.

Otabek looked at him for a moment more, then realized that he still held the gun and decided to put it away. With a versed flick of a finger he secured the Grach and made a step over to the nightstand to place it on the wooden surface where it had been before.

“Couldn’t you have asked me earlier today?”, Otabek inquired and stood straight again. It was awkward to be half-naked when Yuri was looking at him like that, so he walked over to the desk and gripped a T-shirt to put on.

“Yeah, sure”, Yuri said, his voice as sarcastic as ever. “Preferably with someone around who should not be aware that we know each other, which is, let me count, everyone?” He snorted. “It’s not like I had a lot of opportunities to let you know that you should not fucking be here, besides the one you thoroughly ignored. And I’m sorry, but my goddamn cat died tonight while I was still half on coke, so I was a little occupied with not having a motherfucking breakdown, even without you!”

Otabek straightened the shirt with his hands turning around. “He didn’t make it? The ocelot?”

The green eyes changed from furious to heartbroken in an instant. “They tried their best, but it was too late already”, he said with a shrug and lowered his eyes that started filling with tears. “They pumped the stomach but the substance had already gone into the blood. It was too much for his small body.” He sighed shakily and Otabek wanted nothing more than go over there and wrap his arms around Yuri in an embrace but he didn’t dare, not even as the boy started crying again.

“I’m sorry”, he murmured and Yuri shook his head, sobbing lowly.

“It’s my fault. Poor Reaper. He suffered so much. He didn’t deserve that. But maybe I did.”

“Yuri”, Otabek murmured, standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. When the blonde looked up to him, his cheeks were wet with tears.

“You’re still so socially awkward”, he sobbed, but smiled and it made Otabek’s heart skip a beat. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Yuri said and looked down on his hands folded in his lap. “You have no reason to be. I am though. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry...” He hid his face in his hands and started crying so pitifully that Otabek couldn’t help but hurry over there and sit down next to the blonde on the mattress and pull him into his arms carefully.

It felt right. He knew he shouldn’t think this way, because Yuri was devastated, but holding the slender, trembling boy close was a wonderful, satisfying experience. Especially when Yuri rested his head against Otabek’s chest, wetting Otabek’s shirt with his tears. His hair smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers. It was terrible to see and feel and hear Yuri cry, but Otabek was happy. “It’s alright”, he murmured into the strands of gold. “I’m here.”

It made Yuri sob even louder and it made him fisting the fabric of Otabek’s shirt, desperately holding onto him. And then, very hoarsely Yuri said “I missed you” and Otabek pulled him closer, feeling tears tickling on his own cheeks.

“I missed you too.”

They sat and cried and outside the sky turned from black to a soft blue with the breaking dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, jeez! XD  
> I wanted to finish the break-in scene, but the chapter would have become too long that way, so you can expect more in the next part. I've had this scene on my mind when I was still working on On love: Monster, and I'm glad I came that far now.   
> I hope you liked it!! ^^


	16. Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!!  
> Thanks to my lovely neighbor's neighbor MK who lend me her laptop and made this chapter possible. I made it extra-long, only for you ^^

Someone came home to their hotel room. Otabek heard their steps in the hallway outside his room, then a door farther down the hallway being closed. It was a little before four in the morning, the sky outside slowly brightening as the day arrived.

Yuri’s sobs had vanished after some time and Otabek could feel the tears dry on his own cheeks as he very carefully held the blonde close. The leather of Yuri’s jacket was cold against his bare arms. The boy’s fingers still clenched in the fabric of his shirt he felt like Yuri never wanted to let go of him again. And he himself felt a lot like it. He couldn’t be without Yuri and only now he realized how bad it really had been for him, being without him. He had suffered, he was aware of that, suffered a lot to be honest. But only now that he felt the thin arms around his chest, the warmth Yuri radiated even through his shirt so welcome, so pleasant, only now he realized how good it felt to be with him. He was so relieved. He was so endlessly glad that they were both here, so close. There were a lot of problems, a lot of questions and very likely so many obstacles they had to deal with to figure out how they could stay close, but he was truly happy. And it hurt to realize that only a few hours ago he had imagined to commit suicide with the gun so innocently shining on the nightstand as if nothing had happened. He could have easily done it and it scared the shit out of him.

Yuri stopped crying, but didn’t back away. His hands released the back of Otabek’s shirt but remained in place, placed on Otabek’s lower back softly. The golden mess of his hair swirled around his head and shoulders like strands of sunlight and then all the way down until it ended not before his waist, caressing the skin of Otabek’s lower arms that he kept wrapped around the skinny shoulders. In the spur of the moment Otabek eventually lifted one hand and let his fingers run through the silky strands. It felt wonderful. He had always had a thing for Yuri’s hair, but now it was so incredibly long and beautiful that he couldn’t resist.

“It’s so long”, he murmured, stroking the light mane in a way that even for himself appeared to be a little too loving. He couldn’t stop though. He had missed Yuri way too much to ever stop again.

Yuri’s voice sounded weak when he asked: “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” He nodded and buried his fingers in the golden threads. “Yes, I like it.”

Yuri hummed, then they fell silent again.

Otabek leaned his cheek against the parting of Yuri’s hair and closed his eyes for a second. He was tired, his entire body felt exhausted. He had trained too hard yesterday. No wonder after what had happened at the veterinarian’s clinic. It had seemed a good idea to try and get it out of his system, to keep his body occupied with the workout so that his brain and heart would not start running again, but now it came back at him. He had clearly overdone it and the slight pain he felt was only a glimpse of how sore he would feel later today or even tomorrow. But it  _ had _ worked. He  _ had  _ not thought about how Yuri had pushed him away earlier. And as soon as he remembered the weight of the gun in his hand, he thought that maybe if he had had a little more time thinking he might have done it, might have shot himself. It was ridiculous now and it seemed very far away, but it had been real then. This black thing in his chest that he still struggled to control. And that although all his life had been nothing but a never-ending exercise in controlling himself. He’d need to work on that, just like he would need to work on his body. He’d train hard and become stronger, mentally as well as physically and finally be the friend that Yuri deserved: a friend that could protect him.

‘I need to protect him.’

“Yuri”, he murmured in the blonde hair and felt the body in his arms tense up a little. “We need to talk.”

It took a moment before the blonde answered, in a sad, hushed, low voice: “I know.” He squeezed Otabek tight in his arms for a second, then let go with a sigh and sat up.

It felt like he hugged him good-bye. The thought ripped Otabek’s insides apart, but he tried to not let it show. He probably only imagined it anyway. Instead he sat back himself and looked at Yuri who lowered his head, his hair like a curtain that shielded him from the world. It didn’t look like he would bring a single word out, so Otabek inhaled deeply and started:

“First of all”, he said and tried to keep his voice smooth and low for not to make Yuri feel even more uncomfortable, “I am very thankful that you came to see me. Very thankful indeed. I know it must have been a horrible day for you, I can not imagine how you feel right now, but please, believe me, I appreciate that you came here, more than words can tell.” He paused and when Yuri didn’t react, tilted his head in an attempt to look around the shorter fringe that blocked Yuri’s face from his sight. “Do you understand that?”

Yuri nodded, his hands balling into fists on top of his tights. Otabek noticed how long and slender Yuri’s legs were in the black skinny jeans, almost worrisome. He also noticed a thin silver bracelet around his right wrist. Usually Otabek did not have an eye for jewelry but the design was outstanding: the whitegold piece had four small stones set into the silverish material, making it look as valuable as it must have been considering all the treasures that Orlov surrounded himself with, but the most notable detail were the screws that flanked two opposite sides of the bracelet. It was tight around Yuri’s wrist, too tight to slip it over his hand as Otabek noticed, so the screws despite being fashionable likely served a very practical purpose as well. On the other hand it meant that Yuri would not be able to take the thing off without the appropriate screwdriver. And with something tightening his throat Otabek found that it was not only jewelry; it was a leash.

“My question”, he said, tearing his look from the metal around the fragile arm to look up, “is still the same. What are you doing here, Yuri? Breaking into my hotel room in the middle of the night?” 

Yuri swallowed audibly, then exhaled in a trebling wheeze. “I needed to see you”, he said, his voice shaking. “I thought that if I came here… that if I saw you, that I would be fine again. I need to be fine. I need to-” He chuckled voiceless. “It was a bad idea, I see that now.” He whipped his head around and looked at Otabek, his eyes green and stunning. “You need to leave. Now.”

Otabek stared at him confused.

“I’m serious, you need to leave.” With a hasty motion Yuri got up and stood facing Otabek who remained seated. The golden strands dangled around Yuri’s pretty, ghostly pale face. “Right now.”

“No.”

“This is not a plea!”, Yuri rose his voice, his brows furrowed in the angry frown that Otabek had learned to see through so many years ago already.

“And I don’t take orders from you”, Otabek replied, still calm.

It made Yuri huff in annoyance. “I told you already! You can not be here! I didn’t write and bring you that note because I didn’t know what to do with myself! You need to leave immediately! I told you to leave!”

“And I told you that I will not!”

With a yelp Yuri stepped backwards when he heard Otabek yell and it made sense that he was surprised. Otabek had never spoken in a loud voice before he had woken up again, much less yelled at someone. It still surprised himself a little, but it had happened before and he thought that he was getting used to it by now. Yuri on the contrary had never heard or seen him angry and it made him fall silent.

Frowning Otabek looked up at him. He  _ was _ angry. Angry that Yuri could think that he’d just leave, for whatever reason he requested that to begin with. Angry that Yuri could think that he could just leave him behind again, even after witnessing in what mess it had brought Yuri the first time it had happened. “I will not leave!”, he repeated. “I  _ can not _ leave. Not without you!” He got up, saw how Yuri took another step backwards and it stung in his heart, so with an apologetic look he reached out to take Yuri’s hands in his. “I can’t be without you, Yuri. I couldn’t before my coma. And I can not now. I need you. And I will get you out of here.”

First there was a glimmer in Yuri’s eyes. Something that was not anger. Something bright. Something beautiful. And something that Otabek knew so well by now: hope. But just as if it only had been there to mock him, it was gone again, the cold returning to the tourmaline eyes. It hurt to witness it. 

“Stop shitting me”, he hissed and in an abrupt motion freed his hands from Otabek’s grip. “You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about-”

“I don’t care-”

“But you should, asshole! You fucking should and if I tell you to leave you should fucking do it, because  _ I know _ ! You should grab your fucking stuff and leave Moscow immediately and before they fucking find out who you are and rip your guts out with their bare hands!” He clenched his hands until the knuckles became white. “Get the fuck out of here. Go home, go back to your sweet little life with your caring family where you belong, because you don’t fucking belong here.”

“And neither do you.”

It made Yuri laugh out lowly. “You have no idea. You don’t even know who I am anymore. And it doesn’t matter. You don’t have a place here.”

“And what if I have?”, he gave back, frowning. “What if I tried to find a place I belong and what if I didn’t find one before fifteen minutes ago, before I was with you? What if there is no place for me anymore if not by your side?”

His lower lip trembling Yuri shook his head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m talking about this!”, Otabek spat and pointed his index finger at his chest, right where his heart was beating heavily against the ribs. “It hurt so much to learn that you were gone. It hurt thinking about how I made you leave everything behind. It hurt so much to look for you until I almost lost hope. But I could not stop, I could not, because you are what I need to stay alive. I need you to breathe and I need you to feel anything but pain. I can not leave, not without you. It’d break me if you made me leave. It’d kill me-”

“That’s not it!”, Yuri interrupted him. “That’s entirely not what the fuck I am talking about! You are getting yourself in trouble worse than anything you could imagine! This is not about memories and the past and whatnot, this here”, he made a wide gesture with his arm, “this is serious,  _ dead _ -serious in the most literal way. This is about life and death very physically! Those people will do things to you if they find out about who you are and what you want here. They will do things to your family. They will do things to everyone you know and everyone you hold dear. This isn’t a fucking playground and it’s not a goddamn novel, this is the most influential bratva in all Moscow and they will not hesitate to take drastic measures even just for fun!”

“I know that-”

“Then why won’t you just leave?!”

This time Otabek shook his head. “Because I need to protect you.”

Yuri stared at him wide-eyed, then, with a very low voice said: “Then protect me by returning home. That’s the only thing you can do. I am better off without you.”

Just when Otabek had thought that he had been through the worst pain possible those words ripped his heart out. He didn’t understand how Yuri could say something like that. How he could say that and sound so serious, like he really  _ meant _ what he had just said. Otabek remembered the letters, all those heartbreaking letters in which Yuri had spoken of pain and longing and guilt, staining the paper with his tears. How could the same person say something like that right now?! It wasn’t right.

“Why do you hurt me so much?”, he murmured, his voice unsteady. When Yuri didn’t answer but stared at the floor, he stepped forward a little trying to get the blonde’s attention. “Please, Yuri-”

“Don’t call me that! Yuri is not here anymore! He died a long time ago! He died with you that night. I’m just Katyusha…” 

“But I didn’t die-”, Otabek amended, but Yuri didn’t even let him finish.

“I don’t care! Yuri did! He’s gone forever and you can not bring him back ever again, no matter what you do, so don’t bother trying. I don’t need you here. Katyusha doesn’t need you. He doesn’t want your help, because this is the life he wants to live. You’re nothing but a bother and it’d be better if you disappeared!” With that he fell silent, staring at the floor, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched, like what he had just said had caused him physical pain as much as it had caused pain for Otabek to hear them. Like knives in his chest, again and again. 

With a frown Otabek looked at him for a moment. He didn’t understand. He had expected something, anything that made him see why Yuri acted like he had done until now, had hoped that once they finally had a moment for themselves they could talk and figure something out. But obviously Yuri had decided to hurt him even more instead. He just didn’t know why.

But did it really matter? Maybe this was what Yuri did now. What Katyusha did. Maybe this was what had become of him. Someone reckless, someone who didn’t need Otabek anymore despite the letters. Maybe he was ready to take the last step, the final one that made him leave behind his past life completely. Maybe he had grown that cold. Maybe Katyusha was that kind of person. There was a way to find out.

Clenching his teeth together painfully Otabek made the two steps over to the nightstand. Yuri didn’t even look his way when he grabbed the MP-443. Only when Otabek turned towards him and held the gun out to him he looked up.

“Here”, Otabek said and when Yuri did not move but stared at him, he grabbed his hand and shoved the gun in his shaky fingers who wrapped around the grip automatically. “Do it”, he said and lifted Yuri’s arm to make the barrel point at his own chest. “If you want me to disappear, this is the only way. You’d kill me sending me away. Could as well do it right away.”

The green eyes filled with tears, but Yuri didn’t say anything, just stared back at him.

“Do it”, Otabek repeated, his insides scorching with pain. He grabbed the gun and unlocked the security lever. The low  _ click _ made Yuri startle, just like it had made Otabek startle last night. The sound was something definitive, the last thing to hear before pulling the trigger. It was fine for him. Maybe it was better if it ended right here. The toxic thoughts from last night might have been very wise in the end. He was okay with dying if it made the despair go away. If it finally would stop hurting so much. If the last thing he ever saw were those green eyes that had made him feel alive so long ago.

“Do it!”

“No!!” With a helpless whine Yuri jerked the gun from Otabek’s hand and threw it onto the mattress. Tears fell from his eyes like diamonds sparkling in the twilight as he flew towards Otabek, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Please”, he sobbed, Otabek’s hands coming to rest on Yuri’s back. “P-please, you don’t understand! You- you can not stay! You… please, you can not stay h-here.” His sobs felt painful against Otabek’s chest and his breath so hot on the tan skin of his neck. “They’ll hurt you if you stay. They’ll kill you if you stay. I can’t let you die for me again!”

“I did  _ not _ die!”, he said, slowly, so that Yuri would finally understand. “I did not die then, Yuri, and neither did you. I’m here. I’m here with you as alive as I can be and I will not go away. Ever. Again.” He hugged the sobbing boy close, as close as he could without hurting him. “And I will protect you from now on, Yuri. I will do what I could not do back then. I will save you. I promise.”

“Otabek”, Yuri sobbed and it was the first time he said his name. “Otabek. Otabek…”

“I’m here”, he whispered and placed a soft kiss on Yuri’s hair, listening to his friend sobbing his name again and again like it was a prayer.

 

**е**

 

“I can’t stay long”, Yuri whispered. His soft lips brushed against the skin of Otabek’s throat like butterfly’s wings. It was a kiss and not a kiss at the same time and Otabek’s heart beat so fast and heavy that he’d bet that Yuri noticed it as well. He didn’t comment on it though, but went on: “No one can know that I came here. It’s dangerous. For both of us.”

They had sat down on the bed again, Otabek leaning against the headboard and Yuri in his arms. The gun sat in the far left corner of the blanket, almost invisible on the dark blue sheets, as far away as possible. “Just a little longer”, he begged, his right hand resting on Yuri’s side under the jacket, the thumb rubbing soft circles on the prominent ribs that hid under the thin material of Yuri’s black shirt. It reminded him of Almaty, so long ago.

(Yuri blushes when it happens for the first time, looking up to Otabek with slightly parted lips. When he realizes what he is doing Otabek blushes, too. He didn’t do it on purpose, really. It’s just that when Yuri just snuggled up against him as they are already halfway through the DVD his skin felt so good under his fingers that he absentmindedly started drawing idle patterns on the exposed waist that peeked out between the jeans and the askew shirt. He didn’t even realize that it’s Yuri’s bare skin that he touches for the first time ever in a place that’s not his hands and shoulders. Just when Yuri’s head turns he looks away from the screen and becomes fully aware that he touches his best friend in what could be considered an erotic manner. He stares at him for an embarrassing second, then pulls his hand away and presses it on the padding of the sofa. “Sorry”, he says, frowning. “I was distracted. I didn’t mean to…” He never finishes the sentence when Yuri reaches around himself and takes Otabek’s hand, intertwines their fingers on the same bare spot of ivory skin of his waist, then without a word snuggles even closer and focuses on the movie again.

It’s that moment that Otabek comes to think that maybe Yuri might be interested in him on a level different from just friendship and whenever he silently touches Yuri afterwards - placing his hand on Yuri’s back or caressing his cheek for a moment or playing with his silky, shiny hair - he still makes it look like it’s casual, but it still can be way more than that, so that Yuri can decide for himself why Otabek does it. The truth is that his heart is overflowing with emotions in the most wonderful way. But he keeps quiet about it, because he wants Yuri to figure out what he wants it to be.)

Back then Yuri had not been that skinny. Lean, yes, thin even, but the way the ribs stood out even under the shirt, the way the hipbones were visible under the waistband of the skinny jeans and how incredibly long and thin his legs were made Otabek a little uncomfortable. He looked down on the fragile wrists that rested in Yuri’s lap, the right one decorated with the shimmering bracelet.

“Did  _ he _ put that on you?”, he asked, hesitantly. “Orlov I mean.”

Yuri nodded. “It was for my first Christmas”, he explained in a low voice that missed all the aversion that Otabek had expected. “I had just gotten to know him a few weeks earlier and I think he meant it to be some kind of vow. He was very serious about it.”

Otabek stared at the jewelry. The diamonds shone like ice. “More a threat”, he said, his voice bitter even in his own ears.

It made Yuri look up at him. “No”, he said, calmly. “That’s not what it is. It’s a promise.” When Otabek huffed, he shook his head. “I imagine what you must think of him. You probably think he is a bad person. A monster. Or some kind of criminal mastermind. But that’s not what he is. He might be powerful, dangerous even, but he’s a good person. He is gentle. And he cares for me.” He lowered his eyes. “He loves me.”

As much as it was disturbing Otabek could as well see the truth in Yuri’s words. He had seen it at the vet’s clinic: The way Orlov had held Yuri, comforting him, supporting him when the blonde had needed it. Even going so far to come and thank Otabek personally for taking care of Yuri when he didn’t even know who he was. It was obvious that despite showering Yuri with presents (Boris had mentioned the Audi being a birthday present for Yuri and the bracelet spoke for itself) he really did care for the boy. The question was: how did Yuri feel about it?

“And”, he asked slowly, hoping that Yuri would deny it as an answer, “do  _ you _ love  _ him _ ?” 

The denial didn’t come right away. 

It hurt. And it hurt all the more as the seconds ticked by and Yuri just didn’t say No. Instead he inhaled shakily, his hands wavering. “In a way.”

Otabek’s jaws hurt from clenching and when Yuri looked up again his eyes shone with guilt.

“I’ve been with him for so long”, his voice was hoarse. “I got used to him. And if you are with someone for so long, you… you learn to like people. He’s always been nice to me. He has never treated me badly. He took me in when I had hit the bottom and he was so good to me although I didn’t deserve it. It’s not that I fell in love with him like I fell in love with… like one falls in love with someone. But his affection helped me so much and I- I enjoy it. Yes, I think that’s it. It does my heart good.”

Otabek nodded. “I see.”

“No, you don’t”, Yuri hurried to object. “I don’t love him, okay, not like that. He’s like a father for me, a father I never knew-”

“A father who has sex with you”, Otabek interrupted him. He knew he was being unfair, but he couldn’t deny that it hurt to hear how affectionately Yuri spoke of this man. 

“‘Don’t say that”, Yuri replied with a frown, but Otabek shrugged.

“But I hear that’s what he does. Correct me if I’m wrong.” He was jealous, he found, because he had hoped that even after such a long time Yuri would still be in love with him, like he had been back then in Almaty when he had visited Otabek there, all shining eyes and blushing nosetip. Of course he should have expected that things had changed. It was foolish, but he couldn’t help it. He loved Yuri and he wanted him for himself, as selfish as it might sound. When you had loved someone for so long you couldn’t just accept that their heart belonged to someone else.

“He does”, Yuri said, sitting up. He looked offended and a little confused as well. “He does because if he did not I would be dead by now for sure.” Looking at Otabek for a moment he pouted in the cutest way despite the graveness of his words. “He saved me when he took me in, you hear me? And I am thankful.” When Otabek didn’t say anything, because he was too angry and disappointed and hurt, mostly by how he acted like an asshole himself, Yuri took his hands in his and looked down first on the wound on Otabek’s hand and then on the tattoo on his lower arm.

“When I left home”, Yuri said, his voice weak and vulnerable and  _ young _ , “I was devastated. I have never given up hope that you would recover, but, you know, hoping can be so fucking painful. I couldn’t stand it anymore. And then my grandfather died. It shattered the pieces of my broken heart. And then my cat died. It gave me the last blow. I could not stay there. So I ran away from everything.

I slept in the streets for a few nights, wandering the city during daytime, numbing the pain with cheap booze because this was the only way I could forget. I got picked up by the police a few times but there was no one they could take me to, so they just released me into the night again. It was cold and I knew that I could have frozen to death but whenever I thought of it I drank so much that I forgot it again. Maybe I wanted to die. I’m not so sure now.

After some nights - I don’t even know how many, it’s all so damn blurry - I went over to the park to sleep there and some guy came up to me and asked me if I wanted to buy coke. I didn’t even think twice about it and did it. It was better than the booze. It made me feel good or something close to it. I bought more. He came over every night and when he one night asked me if I wanted to come over to his place with him I did it. He had friends waiting there and he let me use his shower and it felt so good to wash my hair after days. When I came out one of his friend asked me if I could blow him if he paid me for it. We got high on speed and after the pep kicked in I did it to him and two or three other people, I don’t even remember.

I stayed at the guy’s place overnight and we slept all day and in the evening they took me to a club. A woman approached me and asked me if I wanted to star in some of her videos, she’d pay me a lot and, well, she really did. She was a professional who scouted mainly in bars and nightclubs and after I had signed the contract she booked me a room in a hotel and got me clothes and drugs. I still think she payed me a fair amount of money, for my debut video as well as all the others, but then I didn’t even realize, because all I wanted to do is get high so that I would not think. In the few months I worked for her I did a shitload of videos. I let them do the weirdest stuff to me, roleplay, bondage, gang bangs, you name it. Even when I was acting I was so high on drugs that on some days I couldn’t even remember what I had shot earlier. I watched a few videos later and thought that some of the stuff certainly wasn’t consensual, but I didn’t even care as long as the dope kept coming.

I was a fucking wreck there. I got very popular, seriously, I was making a fortune but I was broken. If someone had strangled me to death fucking me in front of the camera I could not have cared less. I was shattered.

That was when Anatolij found me. And he got me out of there. I don’t even know why. He says that he wanted me for himself and even today I can not understand how someone could have wanted the ugly, dirty whore I was back then, nothing but a pile of shit coated in gold in front of the camera, holding still for any dick that came with a paycheck. But he saw something else, something worth caring for. And he did. Care for me. 

He gave me a home. He gave me his affection. He gave me a chance. He is not a bad person.” 

He looked up at Otabek again, as if he wanted to apologize with only the shimmer in his eyes and Otabek understood. He squeezed Yuri’s bony hands carefully. 

Here it was, the answers he had longed for, the long, heartbreaking story that had made his precious little Yuri turn into the not less precious Katyusha. It would take him some time to fully comprehend what Yuri had gone through, but his anger had vanished along with his disappointment. 

Of course Yuri had a bond with Anatolij Orlov. He had saved his life. And Otabek caught himself feeling something else than loathing and disdain for the man who kept his best friend like a sodomized kitten. He felt gratitude and respect. It was awkward to realized that he owed Orlov. The man whose henchmen had almost killed him.

“Why  _ Katyusha _ , though”, Otabek asked after some moments pondering.

The tourmaline eyes filled with tears. “I took that name when the first video was in the making. Miss Pavilevskaya asked me by what name I would like to go and I chose Katyusha. You know, like the girl in the song. My grandfather had played it on his accordion when I was a child and I had always found it so touching how she never gave up hope. She never knew if her love would ever return, but she would wait for him, day in day out and every day the chances that he would return to her diminished. But she would remember him. She would wait for him. And her heart would only ever be his.” Yuri smiled a tiny smile, his cheeks shimmering with tears.

Otabek rose a hand and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I found your letters”, he breathed, watching as new tears fell from Yuri’s eyes, wetting his fair skin. “The letters you left on your bed for me.”

It made Yuri sob convulsively and he wrapped his arms around the trembling body, holding him close.

“I never- wanted you to see m-me like this”, Yuri sobbed, weak and limp in Otabek’s arms. “I’m s-so- so ashamed…”

“Don’t be”, Otabek said and stroked Yuri’s hair gently. “I just want to be with you.”

“Y-You shouldn’t be. It’s too dangerous. I- I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, Yuri. I promise. We’ll find a way.”

Yuri nodded, crying noisily into Otabek’s shirt. “I missed you so much, Otabek.”

“I missed you too, Yuri”, he whispered, not sure if Yuri could even hear it over his violent sobs and all he wanted to say was “I love you”.

He said it hours later when he laid down in the ruffled sheets. In the early morning he had driven Yuri home with the R8 Yuri had come with after the boy had stopped crying, his eyes red and puffy. They had promised each other to be careful, very careful. He had saved his phone number into Yuri’s smartphone, using his new name. Yuri had smiled when he had recognized Khaligaz’ nickname and held the device to his chest like a treasure. It was hard to leave him behind in the car park under the building where he had picked him up earlier today; it felt like it had been ages since then.

After he had returned to the hotel around half past six with a taxi he dropped on the bed exhausted. He secured the gun, placed it on the nightstand again and climbed under the blanket. It was nice to think that only minutes ago Yuri had been here with him. So close, closer than he had hoped for a long time. And it made his eyes burn with tears to remember his tiny smile in a tear strained face he wanted to kiss so desperately. He swallowed the tears, closing his eyes and recalled how Yuri had clung to him like his life depended on it.

“I love you”, he whispered in the silence of the room, illuminated by the rising sun, but still only tinted in hues of black and blue. And then again: “I love you.” And again. Because he really, really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just kiss already!!! Jeez....
> 
>  
> 
> Btw as I couldn't write so much this week I drew some stuff related to this story, so check out captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com if you like!
> 
> Next chapter might take two weeks as I move back to Germany next week and I don't know how much time I will have to write. I hope you can forgive me orz


	17. (in)visible scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, for letting you wait so long!! I know I said I'd upload this chapter earlier, but I got so excited about the YOI shit bang, I spent a lot of time on that.  
> To make up for this I made this chapter a little longer than usually, so I hope you will forgive me. ^^

His legs, his back and his shoulders hurt when he woke up. He couldn’t remember the dream, just that it had not been a nice one. Moaning he turned to fetch his phone from the night stand; 12:27 and 8 new messages. Opening the app he found seven of them were by Boris.

 

_ hey are you free today _

 

_ we didnt finish yesterday because of the ocelot i need to continue today do you want to come _

 

_ the ocelot didnt make it by the way _

 

_ poor creature _

 

_ let me know if you have time so i can tell maxim if i need him today and i still owe you your payment for yesterday too _

 

_ btw tomorrows my wifes birthday she told me to invite you if you arent busy _

 

_ everyones coming so we thought it would be nice if you came too think about it _

 

Frowning Otabek looked at the messages. His arm hurt the way he held his smartphone, but he didn’t want to sit up yet, so instead he kept holding the device above his head, reading through Boris’ texts again. Due to the lack of punctuation marks the content of them was a little confusing and the intention didn’t make things a lot easier for him to comprehend. He got the question about the collection, also the information that the dwarf leopard had died that night - which he of course already knew - but he didn’t quite get why Boris wanted him to come to his wife’s birthday party. He didn’t know the woman. Actually he didn’t know Boris all too well either. Wouldn’t it be awkward to go to a birthday celebration with only strangers? 

Eventually Otabek sat up with a huff.

_ If my help is needed today again I would gladly join you for the continuation of yesterday’s work _ , he wrote.  _ Please let me know about the time and place for me to come _ .

He tapped the paperplane graphic and exited the chat to check out the other text he had received. The phone number was not saved to his contact list so he had only the string of digits sitting in the top line of the almost empty chat. Reading the message it was pretty obvious though who the sender was.

_ 91617050829: I set the timer for auto deletion of the messages to 30 seconds for his chat, so no one can know that we wrote and what we wrote. I just wanted to thank you for this morning. It’s not smart to tell you this but you helped me a lot, just like you always do. But still, I’d rather have you not here. It’s dangerous. I don’t want that anything happens to you. If you’d just go back home to where it’s safe and turn your back on Moscow and everyone here I wouldn’t worry so much. Please consider that, for both our sake. I need you to finally be alive and happy. _

Against better judgement Otabek took a screenshot of the message before it could disappear only seconds later. Pondering he read it again and again before answering it: 

_ Me: I told you already. I can not be without you. I beg you to accept this. _

Only moments later a reply came in.

_ 91617050829: I’ll try. Please be careful. It’s very dangerous here. Promise me to be careful. _

_ Me: I promise., _ he typed and smiled a little. It felt good how concerned Yuri seemed to be about him.

The messages disappeared and Otabek deleted the screenshot before getting under the shower. Halfway through washing his hair he realized that he was still smiling.

 

**ч**

 

(He wants to have sex with Yuri. The thought is as simple as it is ultimate. He wants him physically. And there’s nothing embarrassing about it. He doesn’t feel guilty. He doesn’t feel like a bad person because he wants that with a 15 year old boy. Because he doesn’t think of Yuri as a 15 year old boy. He thinks of him as just Yuri, Yuri as a person, Yuri as a phenomenon. And Yuri is enticing, too enticing. Too beautiful. Too much of everything. And Otabek is only human.

He stands there and watches the final pose of allegro appassionato in B minor and as Yuri starts crying there are so many emotions in Otabek. There’s pride: Yuri just won a Grand Prix gold medal. Otabek knows even before the scores are announced and he is incredibly proud of his friend. But there’s also concern: Yuri should not be crying. He just made history, he should be happy. But on the other hand Otabek knows exactly what it feels like when the pressure is gone all of a sudden. He knows how it feels if you don’t get that one jump right and touch the ice, the whole program worthless because of one mistake. And he feels sorry for Yuri: he wants to be there for him. He wants to wrap his arms around Yuri and take care of him. He wants to comfort this incredibly strong, incredibly fragile boy who stole his heart without knowing. He wants to kiss him. His lips, his hair, his neck, his feet. Everything. Yuri is so beautiful, so slender, so white, so strong. His hair like gold, his skin like snow, and his eyes, his eyes! He wants Yuri to look at him like that again. Like back then when they were both children and Otabek felt so lost and tiny and terrible. He was broken back then and it’s Yuri who showed him how to get on his feet again and acknowledge his wealth. He wants to do that for Yuri now, show him that although he missed that one jump he is perfect in every way possible. He wants to worship Yuri so that he can not be misunderstood: with absolute devotion. His throat is dry and his breath shallow as he watches Yuri get up from his knees again and wave to the audience with a perfect slender arm, long fragile fingers. Otabek’s heart beats heavy in his chest. He wants him. He wants him so much.)

The memory had come suddenly as Otabek stood in front of the small bathroom mirror topless, scrutinizing the scars on his skin. He had always had his doubts about his body, all his life. His skin having a weird olive shimmer and being of small built, his lashes a little too long and a little too black. Athletic, but not exactly impressive, that’s how he had always seen himself and more than anything way too mediocre to stand a chance with Yuri Plisetsky. The tables had turned, but for both of them. He had grown in the coma and although he was not exactly tall still, he hadn’t remained too small either. The training had done him well, too, his chest and shoulders broader and his overall shape way more muscular than he had been back when he had still skated. The melee exercises made him look like he wasn’t someone to mess with, the scars adding to the impression as well as the tattoo on the upper side of his lower right arm. He could see why people called him attractive, but despite all the masculine charisma, looking in the mirror he saw the same stoic, awkward Otabek who had hopelessly fallen in love with the most beautiful creature in this world 10 years ago. 

A creature who had become even more beautiful in the meantime. He hadn’t noticed this morning but the more he thought about it the more he realized that he still felt attracted to Yuri the very same way as he had years before - if not more! He didn’t feel like Yuri felt something comparable for him, he most likely only still saw him as a friend, but recalling how the silk-covered ribs and hip bone had felt under his yearning fingers his heartbeat sped up. No wonder Yuri had been popular starring in those videos Otabek had heard about. He was not only stunningly beautiful, like he had been years before, no, he was what Otabek could only describe as sinful. His long, slender legs, the gold-spun hair, the silky lips and shimmering eyes; the way he moved unconsciously gracefully, elegant in every ever so unremarkable movement, it enchanted Otabek beyond measures. Yes, he had wanted Yuri before his coma - he wanted him ten times more now.

The fact that he by far wasn’t the only one feeling like this made his want taste bitter though. Otabek saw his eyebrows move into a frown when in his head the terms for what Yuri had performed echoed like a curse. Cross-dressing and fetish, that was what Oleg had mentioned in the club and Yuri himself had added more: roleplay, bondage, gang bangs, he had even mentiond strangling. Never having been one for adult videos, only ever fantasizing about the Russian Fairy in the most respectful way his hormones had allowed him to, Otabek could only vaguely imagine what that meant. It was clear though that you could not earn  _ a fortune _ , like Yuri had called it, with loving kisses and gentle caressing. And although Otabek could not even picture what Yuri had been through it hurt that he had pushed himself so far, bringing his body on the edge of self-abandonment for money. 

And what he had spent the money for! By now Otabek only knew about speed, marihuana and cocaine, but he couldn’t say for sure if that was all. It must have been a lot though if he had acted in so many videos, being paid as fairly as he had stated to have been. What else than drugs would he have spent all the money on if he had been accommodated in a hotel and dressed by the woman who had scouted him? What else could he have spent so much money on? What-

There was a sudden pressure on his chest, like a hammer hitting his sternum and pressing the breath out of his lungs.

That was how choking must feel like: wanting, trying, needing to breathe and not being able to. Obviously it didn’t necessarily take a physical impact to let that happen. Obviously in his case it was enough to come to realize that the boy he loved had sold his body and his soul in order to pay his hospital bills. It was not more than a mere suspicion, but it made more sense the more Otabek allowed his thoughts to assemble until he could only hold himself upright by pressing his trembling hands onto the porcelain of the sink.

It was his fault. It must be. There was no other explanation than that Yuri had kept him alive for such a long time by allowing this excruciating perish to tear him into pieces. Forced to endure humiliation both physically and mentally, willing to let strangers treat him like a toy and worse, hurting him, staining him, raping him, all so that the machines that made Otabek breathe and his heart beat would be kept running until the day he either woke from the coma or eventually died… All the pain and fear and abuse that Yuri had gone through, it crushed Otabek. The red crept into his vision as he tried to breathe. Everything hurt. He couldn’t think anymore. Just feel. Only feel. So much pain, his own and Yuri’s, such terrible pain. He clenched his teeth until he thought they might break. His hands pressed against the sink so hard he expected it to break from the wall and from the pipes or his shoulders giving in under the force, the wound on his right hand burning. He squint his eyes shut to not see the red, nor his mirror image. This mirror image that showed the man who was the cause of all this. 

His breath made his throat rattle like it had when he had first tried and breathed without the machine. Then, very slowly, the pain vanished, but only stepping aside for a feeling of guilt he had not known he was capable of. It took him a minute to force his eyes open to look at his mirror image.

What he saw scared him. It was a young man with a desperate frown, the jaws clenched, the complexion pale despite the olive tan. He was attractive although his lashes were a little too long and a little too black and there were scars. Many scars. One splitting his left eyebrow where a fist blow had hit him. One running alongside the left jaw bone, shimmering in the light of the lamp. One that was proof of a laceration that must have made his lower lip bleed like crazy. One on the back of his nose where a kick with a metal capped boot had left the bone broken. All those and the acne scars on his attractively high cheek bones. All those and the ones on his torso and arms and legs and those not visible. The one on his shoulder blade, from the knife and the one under his jet black, long, wet, tousled hair that was the remain of the kick that had almost killed him. He saw a broken man, with dark, sad eyes. But this man was alive. He had survived. And it was all thanks to Yuri.

He owed him, that became clear to Otabek in this very moment. He owed him his life, more than he had known until now. The promise he had made to Yuri peeled itself from the pain in his chest. Only half an hour ago he had promised Yuri to be careful, because it was dangerous. His life was in danger. This life that was no longer only his own. Not after all Yuri had endured to keep him alive. He had promised to be careful but he knew that only moments ago he had been ready to sacrifice himself for Yuri. He would have done anything for this boy, had gladly been reckless if just to do it for Yuri. But how could he now? Now that he knew about the hell Yuri had gone through to keep this scarred body alive, to keep this miserable organs working not knowing if Otabek would even make it in the end. No wonder he had turned to take drugs, to numb the pain and deafen the indignity. No wonder he had fled into Anatolij Orlov’s arms, if only to leave this agony behind.

Otabek owed him. More than he could ever repay him. More than he could ever give. But he was willing to give. Everything he had. And he’d do it with responsibility now. He’d take care of this life that Yuri had gifted him by sacrificing himself. He’d take care of them, both of them. He owed Yuri. Everything.

_ I promise, Yuri _ ., he typed, back in his room. He meant it like never before.

 

**к**

 

“You look like you’re in a bad mood today”, Boris said, the cigarette between his lips half gone already despite the no-smoking rule. “But then again you alway look like you’re in a bad mood.” He chuckled and pulled the black Audi out of the parking lot and into the early evening traffic before Otabek even had time to buckle the seat belt.

“Just sore muscles”, Otabek murmured and plucked his own pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his suit, but instead of taking one out he looked down on the small cardboard box. He owed Yuri his life. He couldn’t endanger it by poisoning himself. With a huff he put it back in the pocket and leaned back in the seat.

“Ah, I see, you sure seem to do a lot of training,”, Boris chattered nonchalantly, “you’re pretty athletic. I used to look like that 20 years ago.” He guffawed and overran a red light. “Well, no, that’s a lie. I never looked quite that good. So, what do you do? Workout or some kind of sport?”

Otabek nodded. “Several things. Running and workout in the gym. Kickboxing and melee exercises, stuff like that. I went to an airsoft field today. It was the first time here in Moscow, but I feel like it is very helpful to train actual combat situations. I think I need to keep track of that to be effective if I am to pit against someone.”

The field was located a short motorcycle ride outside Moscow, Otabek had received the pamphlet from Vlad at the shooting range. The teams playing had gladly allowed him to join in a friendly match. However after they had seen with how much skill and determination he played they had vied for him to join their teams long term. And that although his body still hurt from the excessive workout the night before. Still, it had been a purifying experience and he indeed planned on going there on a regular basis whenever he found time. To combine his knowledge and skill in melee combat, shooting and cross-country running had made the training and exercises make sense all of a sudden. It had meshed like the gears of a clockwork mechanism in the most satisfying way, proving that he indeed was capable of handling combat situations by eliminating the members of the opponent team one by one - he had not been hit even once.

Boris whistled. “Wow, boy, what kind of drill did they sent you through in Korea? You sound like some sort of hunting hound.”

“I am not. It might come in handy though. I am not willing to take any risks.”

“Because of the attack?”

Otabek flinched slightly. How did Boris know about the attack? How the hell could he know? Had his cover blown already?!

“Don’t act so surprised, I might be dumb, but with all those scars it’s not really hard to put the pieces together. Must have been a pretty rough time leaving so many ugly traces on such a pretty face.” He shrugged and tossed the cigarette stump out of the window slit. “Left its traces on the inside as well I guess.” When Otabek didn’t comment on that he went on: “It’s a good thing you can defend yourself though, you’re a smart boy and easy to be around, it’d be a shame if something happened to you. My wife will be relieved if she hears about your combat skills. By the way”, he smiled over to Otabek. “Have you received my message? About the invitation?” Otabek nodded, so he continued. “Have you thought about it? Anka would be so happy to get to know you.”

“Why”, he asked, pondering. “Why would she want me to come? I mean, I will come if you insist, but I am technically a stranger.”

A chuckle escaped Boris’ chest. “What are you talking about? We’re family now, Erasyl! And everyone’s coming. Maksim even brings his kids, you will love them, you’re so good with children, aren’t you. Anka pickled melons, she’ll be so disappointed if you don’t come. She suspects I made you up because all I tell her about you sounds like you are a character in a soap opera!”

“What the hell did you tell her?”, Otabek blurted out bewildered.

“Nothing but the truth!”, Boris exclaimed grinning. “Only that you are a very reliable, calm, honest, handsome young man who believes in true love. It’s not my fault that it sounds like you are straight out of some little girl’s fairytale.” He turned off into a smaller street that was lined with leafless thin trees. “I told her how you drove Katyusha to the vet. It has that Hero in Shining Armor vibe to it, don’t you think?”

“But the ocelot died”, Otabek reminded him, trying not to feel upset by the comparison that was so similar to his old nickname. It pulled a string in his chest that Boris, someone who had known him for not more than a couple days, seemed to characterize him so accurately like his old self. Maybe after all that was just how he was.  _ Erasyl _ , the Noble Hero. Maybe the name had rubbed off on him eventually.

“Yes, yes, it’s a pity. I bet Katyusha was mightily sad.”

Otabek nodded. “Orlov came to pick him up. He was really compassionate, I hadn’t expected that.”

Again Boris laughed. “Yeah, you might think that such a powerful man would become a mean dog after some time, but it’s really not true for him. It’s probably thanks to his wife, she’s wearing the trousers at home, so he stayed in touch with reality all those years-”

“Wait, what?!”, Otabek interrupted him. “He’s married?”

“Sure, to a wonderful wife and he has two wonderful daughters.”

“But…” Otabek shook his head slowly. “I thought he’s with Katyusha?”

“She allows him this little pastime.” Boris shot him a short amused glance when Otabek remained speechless. “I told you she’s a wonderful wife. You should get to know her, and the girls, they are two adorable angels, not like Maksim’s little witches. Don’t tell him I said that!”

With a sigh Otabek frowned. The more he learned about this clan the more he was under the impression that everyone was really nice and bonafide. Had everything he had expected this clan to be been a horrible error of judgement?

But when he ran his hand through his hair he still felt the scar on his scalp and it reminded him. He had almost been killed by members of this bratva. It was a fact as real as the injuries he had suffered. That and Nad’s warning:  “The Orlov bratva, a powerful clan that rules the entire Moscow underground. And if I say powerful I mean you really don’t want to fuck with those guys unless you have nothing to lose but your miserable life.” And not less Yuri’s plea to take care, to be careful. “They’ll hurt you if you stay. They’ll kill you if you stay.  _ It’s very dangerous here. Promise me to be careful. _ ” Maybe there was a side of the Orlov Bratva that was as gentle and domestic and friendly as Boris described. Otabek could believe that. But more than anything he trusted the fear in Yuri’s eyes. The desperate tears. “I can’t let you die for me again.” The threat was just as real. And he’d not let his guard down. 

“So, I can tell Anka you are coming?”, Boris said with a bright smile and Otabek nodded.

“Yes”, he replied frowning. “I happily accept the invitation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course you all knew that it was Yuri who sent the money, and now finally poor Beks realized it as well! Changed his way of thinking a lot, too, not that he'd ever change his mind about wanting to protect Yuri. ;D  
> I made backstories for all my side characters by now too, you'll see next week. I'm excited about Otabek being surrounded by a swarm of little boys and girls ^-^  
> I hope you liked this chapter, feel free to comment on what you found good and what you thought sucked, I'm glad about any kind of feedback!


	18. A Night In The Dark

“Hit!”, echoed through the trees.

“Hit!”, again.

“Hit! For fuck’s sake!”

“Language, Sasha-”

“But it’s true, that guy is a goddamn monster!”

Otabek frowned in his hideaway, overhearing the conversation between the two opponents while still trying to keep an eye open for the rest of the team. He had found and eliminated the sniper, the supporter and one of the infantries, so there was only the second infantry player and the scout left. He had heard one of them in the distant right before eliminating the supporter and Sasha, the first infantry player, who had taken up position close to each other. He suspected it was the scout, a guy with a long red beard, who didn’t look like he played the same position as Otabek due to his height but who had turned out to be very agile. He probably should withdraw and secure the position of his team’s sniper, a young nurse named Tanya, who hadn’t been spotted yet, but who could be the key advantage in the match now.

“He’s good, that’s true. A little scary though, don’t you think?”

“I’m not scared of that guy’s frown!”, Sasha exclaimed as Otabek checked the magazine of his Heckler & Koch MP7 A1.

“Yeah, sure”, the supporter said, “I meant his grimness more, actually…” She chuckled. “Let’s get out of the area, I need a smoke.”

“Yup, me too.”

Otabek checked the magazine of the Walther P99 as well as the silencer attached to the muzzle, then secured the MP7 with the strap. He’d use the smaller gun to try and eliminate the other scout if he approached Tanya. He had heard the friendly infantry, Kolya and the medic, Dimitrii, being hit earlier, so Borya, the supporter must be around somewhere, too. Not like he could stand a chance with the minigun he carried. The thing was unstoppable and had a very wide range with a high firing rate, but the scattering was not to be underestimated and depending on how skilled Redbeard really was Borya was easy prey for him. They had decided that Borya would roam the area around Tanya’s position to lure the infantry closer, but right in the beginning Otabek had missed a chance to eliminate the opponent scout and maybe that would cost them the match. On the other hand Tanya had a really sharp eye, so it was highly possible that she’d spot Redbeard before he had the chance to come too close. And he must be aware that Otabek was still out there somewhere, too.

With a motion that was swift despite his still sore muscles he got up and circled the grass-covered hill so that even if Redbeard was after him he’d not give away Tanya’s position in the rock formation in the northern part of the field to where she should have moved by now. If they were lucky Redbeard assumed she was still hiding between the car wrecks a little farther south and would run right into her target zone. Making his way through the scrub he avoided open spaces, ducking between bushes and hurrying from tree to tree, so that he stayed covered. He was about to ascend the hill when he heard the sound of a shot in a distance, after some moments a second one. Certainly not Borya with the minigun. It had sounded like Tanya’s spring sniper rifle that she seeded to reload after every single shot. The shots had not come from the rock formation though but all the way back from the wooden lookout near the main gate. 

Hissing lowly Otabek turned. It wasn’t like Tanya to shoot recklessly and without being very sure that she’d hit. The fact that she had fired  _ twice _ without a “Hit” being called out meant that she had reason to panic - and that could only mean that Redbeard had found out about her position and attacked her. Why she had not stuck to the plan and moved to the rock formation like they had discussed in the briefing before the match Otabek could only guess. But there was no other option than hurrying over there and hoping that he was fast enough to save her before Redbeard eliminated her. Chances were high now that the second infantry player had come to the same conclusion as him and made his way to the position as well, just in case he wasn’t around there already. He had to assume now that Borya had already moved over to the rock formation as planned, so Otabek could not count on him to catch up in time to provide essential support to him. 

He ran so fast it made his lung burn, dodging branches of trees and jumping over roots when he heard Tanya’s “Hit!” He cursed between clenched teeth.

It was him against Redbeard now, probably against the remaining infantry too.

He found the guy with the HK 416 luring between the trees, likely pondering if he should enter the lookout and hope to eliminate them from there. He hit him with the muted Walther from behind and heard a low groan before the infantry player called out his “Hit!”. He turned around with a lopsided grin that only showed how embarrassed he was about being such an easy target and started storing away his gun.

Otabek took a moment to catch his breath. He could wait and hope that Borya would show up eventually and work out a plan with him but it would leave them vulnerable in the meantime and Redbeard knew now that he was here. He didn’t even know how long it would take for the supporter to arrive. The only thing he was sure about was from which direction he’d come - and maybe that was his advantage. With a nod towards the eliminated infantry he turned around and ran in the opposite direction. He could use Borya as a bait. It wasn’t nice but it was the best chance he had. Borya wasn’t exactly discreet, nor was his gun. If Otabek guessed correctly and stayed in cover long enough for Borya and Redbeard to face in combat he’d know their exact position.

He moved in a wide curve towards the rock formation so that Redbeard would not catch sight of him as he made his way towards the northern end of the field. It was very likely that the enemy scout would head that way, he could not expect Borya south from Tanya’s lookout, the entry of the field was too close, it would not make sense for the supporter to lurk in such a small space that would only function as a trap for him. Even in a wider area he was not quite a match for Redbeard but it was the only chance he had. And they had a good chance, still. Otabek did not have very much experience but he was talented and they were two against a single opponent.

He scurried between the trees and after some more meters found a bunch of bushes that provided a nice cover, a little up an acclivity, so he didn’t hesitate and took up a concealed position between the thick leaves. From up here he could see the small trail that Borya would probably follow on his way to the position where the previous combat action had been audible. He felt a branch scratching over his right cheek but couldn’t even pay attention when he heard fast steps coming from the south - the opponent scout. He held his breath and narrowed his eyes. There was no motion to be seen, neither on the trail nor in the thicket alongside it. The steps slowed down, like Redbeard expected an ambush. His intuition was reliable, Otabek had to admit. It was weird though that Redbeard was not visible between the trees somewhere. Telling from the sounds of his steps he should be in visibility range now.

Otabek realized almost too late. Following his instinct he turned his head a little and suddenly realized that the steps didn’t come from the trail down there and also nowhere near it, but from the very path he had used mere seconds ago. The acoustic of the forest had betrayed him and he could only hope that it would work the other way around as well, so with aching muscles he debouched from his hideout and still cowering as close to the ground as possible faced a very surprised Redbeard.

They fired their guns almost at the same time. Otabek’s HK hit Redbeard right in the middle of the chest, Redbeard still had his AK47 replica out and hit his shoulders with three projectiles.

“Hit!”, Otabek called out frowning and Redbeard grinned.

“Yeah, hit!” He lowered the gun and held out his hand to help Otabek up. “Your team wins.”

Otabek took the hand and got up. “Nice match.”

“Definitely”, Redbeard agreed and hung his AK around his shoulder with the strap attached to it. “Actually I wanted to hide here and wait for you to run northwards to meet with the minigun guy, but seems you were faster. Good instincts you have there.”

“Still got me hit”, he replied with a shrug. 

“You’re taking things too serious. I know you’re still new but it’s just a game, don’t let it bother you.”

The truth was that it bothered him a lot. Sure, they had won the match but it had been way too close. He had missed a chance to eliminate the most threatening player of the opponent team right at the beginning of the match and the whole team had payed for his inefficiency. Instincts or not, he needed to make the most of every situation. The other players were here for fun - Otabek was not.

He thought about it on his way back to the hotel and under the shower and even when he got dressed for Anka’s birthday party. When he shaved he noticed the thin red line on his cheek where the branch had scratched him and it was like a reminder that he by all means needed to improve.

He had bought a massive bouquet for Anka that was not too easy to carry on the Ducati even with the transparent wrapping foil, but he managed by driving more carefully than what was usual for him. Boris had sent him the address earlier and Otabek had used his phone for navigation to reach the small brick row house about half an hour from his hotel. It was getting dark already when he rang the bell, not before checking his hairstyle that had survived the ride with the helmet more or less unharmed. From inside there were loud voices audible, laughter and chatter, and for a second Otabek wondered if you could hear the doorbell over all the noise but only moments later he heard footsteps approach and then the door was ripped open forcefully.

Anka was a small blonde chubby woman with rosy cheeks and a smile bright like the sun itself. “Erasyl, dear!”, she exclaimed like she had known him all her life and Otabek found himself in an almost brutal embrace, kisses pressed to his both cheeks alternating, left, then right, then left again. “It’s so nice to have you here, boy, come in, it’s nice and warm inside.” She dragged him inside with the loving force women seemed to possess from a certain age on. 

He tried to smile and not stumble at the same time and held out the flowers to her. “My sincere wishes for your birthday and thank you very much for your kind invitation. I feel very honored to be here.”

Anka laughed earsplitting. “Oh, you are such a lovely young man, just like my Boris said!” She took the flowers, a vibrant selection of red gerbera, gladiolus and vicia as well as small violet fresia. The florist had said that those were very popular in bright colors but didn’t hold any hidden meaning like carnations or hydrangea. The joy in Anka’s laughter seemed to prove him right. “Look at that, how polite and honorable you are, gifting an old lady with a bouquet that’s just right for a princess. You are a dear young man, just like my Boris said! Come, hang your jacket there”, she gestured to the hall stand that looked like it was about to collapse under the countless jackets and coats already there, “and let me introduce you to everyone. I bet there’s a spare chair somewhere, don’t be shy, dear!”

The so-called introduction took place at the door to the living room where the cheerful voices came from and was more like she threw Otabek into a den crowded with hungry tigers, that being some long tables aligned to each other. “Everyone, look who’s here!”, Anka exclaimed and at least a quarter of the dozens of people actually paid attention to her. “This is Erasyl, the good soul”, then addressing Otabek again: “There’s space over there, between uncle Vitya and lil’ Zhenya, the boy can take company more his age, won’t you, Zhenya?”, the last part yelled over the voices again. Said boy, a pale, black haired little thing of what Otabek guessed was around 12 years old, nodded wordlessly, staring at the far edge of the table. Uncle Vitya already had turned to the food on his table again, or more the glass of vodka next to it. 

With a pat on Otabek’s shoulder Anka sent him away when a swarm of little girls appeared seemingly out of nowhere, making him stop in his way. Otabek counted five, all around the same age, 5 or 6, one ginger, one brunet and the other three of them looking exactly alike with their long black hair and only distinguishable by the color of their red, green and blue hair bows.

“Oh, what pwetty flaaaawers!”, the blue one chirped and the red one and the brunet craned their tiny necks to have a closer look at the bouquet which Anka gladly provided by bending down and presenting the spray of flowers. 

“Sooo prettyyy!”, the brunet sang and the ginger girl looked to Otabek.

“Did you bring those?”, she asked with a wide smile and he nodded.

“I’ve never seen you”, the green one, seemingly the calmest of the gang, asked with wide eyes. “Are you the prince Boris told us about?”

“Cilka!”, the red one interrupted her. “He’s not a real prince!” She looked to Otabek, too. “Are you?”

“No, I am not”, he replied with an apologetic smile.

“See?”, the red one said to Cilka, the green one. “Like I told you!”

“He doesn’t look like one”, the ginger girl stated with furrowed eyebrows, but the red one, likely the chief of the gang, elbowed her. 

“Like you have ever seen a real prince, Anya!”

“He looks like one to me”, Cilka murmured dreamily, making her sassy sister and Anya roll her eyes simultaneously.

“So pwetty flawers!”, the blue one could be heard. She hadn’t paid attention to Otabek at all.

Boris saved Otabek from the little power play with an “Erasyl, come here! Drink with us!” and the girls froliced away, Anka leaving for the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

During the next few hours Otabek sat between the very drunk uncle Vitya who really didn’t care for much more than that his vodka was refilled frequently and the very silent Zhenya who was either ill or more quiet than any child Otabek had ever met (that included himself as a child and he had been very, very quiet indeed). Iosif and Egor who turned out to be brothers were there as well, both in a cheerful mood and telling little anecdotes from their childhood that made the whole audience laugh loudly. Next to Zhenya sat Maksim, who was not only the boy’s parent, but also the father of the noisy triplets, Dianka with the red bow, Marisya with the blue bow and the speech impediment that made her pronounce some words in a very infantile way and Cilka, who stopped by Otabek’s chair regularly to ask him things about his prince status or to just stare at him.

“The girl has exquisite taste in men”, Boris guffawed from across the table when she touched the short hair of his undercut very gently and then scampered away laughing high like a chime and a few of the other people (whose names and relationship to Anka and Boris Otabek had forgotten already because of the sheer amount of names and drunk smiles) laughed about it loudly, making Zhenya next to him grimace. He seemed to be not only quiet but also quite protective of his little sisters.

“I’d rather have you wait 20 more years”, Maksim said with a wink and Otabek nodded.

The later it got, the thicker the smoke of the cigarettes in the crowded sitting room became. Uncle Vitya fell asleep on the table and Zhenya sat stiff like a stick on the other side.

“Here”, Cilka, who had appeared in the gap between the uncle’s chair and Otabek’s, said. She held out a small bowl with melons smiling sweetly. “Auntie made those”, she explained showing two missing deciduous teeth. “They are my favourite food in the world!”

“Back off, Cilka!”, Zhenya hissed from the left. “You’re annoying him!”

“I’m not!”, she gave back with a cute pout.

“You’re just such a pain, you know that?”

“I’m not!” She aggressively held out the few pieces of melon to Otabek who felt a little helpless between the siblings. “He who says it is it!! You’re just jealous that I’ll never share my favourite food with you, meanie!”

“I don’t even like your stupid stuff”, Zhenya growled.

“Ha!”, Cilka laughed, “I’d never give you some anyway, ha!” 

Otabek took the bowl from her when she stomped her foot triumphantly.

“And I don’t want them anyway!”, Zhenya exclaimed, then stood up, the chair scratching over the wooden floor noisily. “Zhenya”, Maksim said conciliating, but the boy didn’t even pay attention. Instead the pushed the chair away and walked over to the second door in the room that led to the hallway. It wasn’t the angry storming away that Otabek had expected though, but an insecure, careful walk, his left hand touching the wall until he was out.

“Mean, stupid Zhenya!”, Cilka said pouting. “I’ll never share anything with him again, blind stupid bat!” She looked to Otabek with shimmering eyes.

“Thank you for the melons”, he said with a low voice and it made her smile instantly. He watched her dancing away with bouncing green bow and tried the melons. They were really good.

“Is he okay?”, he then asked Maksim, gesturing towards Zhenya’s now empty chair with his chin and the man shrugged.

“He’s going through a difficult phase”, Maksim said and took a sip of his vodka. “He’ll calm himself I guess.”

Otabek nodded and politely refused Anka’s dozenth attempt of conning him into a glass of vodka.

“So, the boss isn’t coming?”, Aljosha asked over the table and Boris shrugged one shoulder.

“He’s just too busy I guess”, he said and Anka added: “They all are, aren’t they. Svetlana called this morning and had the children sing [Gena’s birthday song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCD2ML8LqoI&index=5&list=LLj5WSAMoR4fXMhOfQKXW8Jg), it was lovely! And Katyusha sent me confectionary with the delivery service, the sweet boy, isn’t he an angel! I would have loved to have him here, he’s so beautiful and splendour, a sight really. ”

Otabek almost choked on the piece of melon he was just eating.

“You alright?”, uncle Vitya asked in a moment of wakefulness and Otabek nodded, so the old man took a big gulp of vodka and fell asleep right away again.

Boris  _ had _ said that they all were family. It should not have surprised him that - of course - the head of the clan and his family had been invited to the celebration if even a rookie like Otabek had been. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed by the fact that they didn’t have the time to come though or if he was relieved. He would have loved to see Yuri, even if it was in the company of what looked like a big part of the bratva (not that he knew how many people were part of it to begin with). On the other hand it would have put him to the test to pretend that he wasn’t madly in love with the vor’s toy boy while everyone was watching.

“A business like this doesn’t run itself”, Aljosha stated. “I’m not surprised they didn’t come.”

“We all aren’t”, Anka smiled brightly. “But they all sent their greetings and that’s just heartwarming, isn’t it?”

The few guests who had listened nodded affirmatively. 

Otabek checked his wristwatch, noticing that is was half past 9 already. The girls had sat down on the sofa in the far back a while ago, watching a cartoon, but Otabek noticed that Zhenya was not with them. No one seemed to care about him, but he worried a little. He had seemed so upset earlier when Cilka had brought the melons, and although he had really been mean Otabek couldn’t help but pity the pale boy who had looked so hurt for some reason.

No one even asked him where he was going when he got up and left through the door to the hallway where the boy had disappeared. 

Despite a lantern on a low cabinet it was close to dark here and he tried to look around for a light switch but was interrupted by angry whispering. It came from the stairs that led to the upper floor and when he circled the stairway he found Zhenya sitting in the middle, staring into the dark. Not sure if the boy had noticed him he thought a moment how he should address him, but it wasn’t even necessary.

“I can hear you”, Zhenya said, his voice low and bitter.

“Can I come and sit with you a little?”, he asked trying to make his voice sound as low and calm as possible. When Zhenya just shrugged he went up the stairs and sat down on the same stair as the boy but keeping a certain distance. 

“If you came to tell me that I was unfair to Cilka: I know, and I don’t give a shit. She’s annoying and I hate when she’s like that.” He hunched his shoulders, his thin arms wrapped around his bent knees.

“You really were mean”, Otabek remarked.

“Not your problem”, Zhenya murmured and turned his head away. “She’s not your sister, so…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

Otabek sat for a moment in silence, watching the boy in the almost darkness of the hallway. He reminded him so much of himself it was scary. Just that Otabek had never dared to so openly show his discontent with anything. “I don’t have siblings”, he explained after a while. “I always thought that it would be nice to have someone to be with. But I was all by myself most of the time. There was a lot of pressure as I’m naturally the only son of the family. I guess it must be like that for you too, in a way.”

Zhenya’s voice was bitter beyond his age when he answered: “You have no idea how it is for me.”

Otabek swallowed hard. “You are right. I don’t. But you could tell me-”

“The fuck I will!”, Zhenya hissed. “If they sent you to give me that goddamn  _ Opening up will help you _ -talk, then go fuck yourself, you have no idea, no one has and no one ever will. I’m alone with this and I always will be and I’m fucking fine!”

The silence was heavy and the dark just as much. It took a moment before Otabek realized what was weird about what the boy had said. “What do you mean, you are alone with this?”

“Come on”, Zhenya sighed. “Don’t even try, it doesn’t work. You probably think you are acting super smart pretending, but believe me, many have tried, I don’t fall for that shit.”

With a frown Otabek leaned against the banister. “I’m not pretending”, he said slowly. “Why would I?” Zhenya just shrugged, so he went on: “I don’t know what you think I’m trying to do, but you can believe me that I have no hidden intention. I was just worried because you seemed so upset earlier and so… hurt. I asked your father about it but he said it’s nothing to worry about. The thing is - I do think someone should worry. I think you deserve that someone worries. And maybe today that someone is me.”

Zhenya let his forehead sink on his knees. “You are a weirdo”, he whispered after a moment. “No wonder Cilka admires you. No wonder everyone calls you a fucking fairytale hero. You really act like one.”

“I didn’t know they call me that”, he chuckled and kept looking at Zhenya and the longer he did and the longer the boy kept silent the more it felt like looking into a mirror.

“You really don’t know, do you”, Zhenya murmured after another moment, then sat up and turned his head vaguely in Otabek’s direction. “You must be kidding me”, he said, then sighed and at last added: “I’m blind. Isn’t that obvious.”

Frowning Otabek looked at the boy’s figure, barely illuminated by the lantern down there. It explained the way he had left earlier. It also explained why he had been so irritated by the loud voices down at the table. “I am sorry”, he said lowly. “I didn’t notice.”

Zhenya huffed. “It’s okay. I guess you are the only person who ever treated me like a normal kid and not like a misfit.” He laughed lowly and it sounded refreshing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I can still treat you like a normal kid”, Otabek interjected.

“Not very likely. They all just reduce me on the disability. Why would you be different?”

“Because there’s more to you than just the fact that you’re blind. You are smart”, Otabek replied, “and witty. And your smile is nice.”

“You don’t even see my smile”, Zhenya objected. “The lights are off.”

“How do you know?”

At that Zhenya gave him a full smirk. “The lightbulbs here hum. Now they don’t. It’s just that stupid lantern on the cabinet that will sooner or later burn the house down and that can hardly be bright enough for you to see me.”

“It is.”

Zhenya nodded slowly, still smiling, but it died on his lips when he spoke. “I can never be like you. I can never do things. I am trapped and everything is noisy and dark and there’s no hope for me. Things scare me. Lame things, like going outside. Or eating things. Or reaching out, not knowing if what I touch will hurt me. I can never have a normal job, like my sisters do, or like my father does, or like you do. I can not write down a shopping list. I mean I could, but it won’t help me. I can not watch a sunset. Or ride a bike. Or throw a stone at someone. Or fall in love at first sight. My life is just half a life, at best. It sucks. And I’m jealous. Because Marisya says that the flowers you brought for aunt Anka are pretty and I can tell that the scent is nice, but… I don’t know what violet is. Or pastel. Or bright. Or glitter. It just sucks. I want to be like everyone else. I feel like I don’t belong here. You probably don’t know how that feels-”

“I do”, Otabek interrupted him, his voice calm and low and serious. “I do know how that feels. And I know that it hurts.”

They were silent again. And then after some moments Zhenya chuckled and said: “Yeah, you sound like you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was long, I hope you survived the part about the airsoft game. ^^' I'll post some links to the guns they use on my tumblr, so check out captainoceanwhirl there if you like.  
> Honestly, I LOVE Zhenya. I enjoyed writing him and Otabek interacting so much, I wish I could have him show up more often from now on. Let me know what you think about it ^^


	19. Ice

 

The voices from the living room were muted by the wooden door. Once in a while Otabek could hear a barked laugh or Anka’s piercing voice, but it soon melted into the constant buzz of sounds again that only seemed to emphasize the silence in the hallway.

“You’re not Korean”, Zhenya said after a moment, making Otabek listening up.

“What makes you think I am not?”, he asked. Not that he had ever suggested that he was.

“You don’t sound Korean”, the boy explained, leaning against the wall and seemingly looking over to him. “You sound more like you’re from the south. Uzbek maybe. Or Kyrgyz.”

Otabek hummed. “See, that’s what I meant when I said you are smart. I’m Kazakh.”

“Why does everyone call you ‘the Korean’ then?”

“I look Asian I guess”, Otabek explained. He wasn’t sure if it was smart to tell Zhenya that but on the other hand it was in his new papers anyway. Nad had them ordered to state that he was born in Semei at the eastern border of Kazakhstan. It was one of the cities in Kazakhstan he knew best, because his father had worked there for a while and he and his mother had visited the city for holidays. It would be convincing that he was from there, if someone ever asked him about it. At the same time it was far enough from Moscow so that most likely not very many people knew anything about the place other than that the nuclear arsenal of the Soviet’s had been tested there. There had been countless cases of children born with disabilities because of the radiation around the time of Otabek’s birth year, so even if someone would ask they would probably not probe to much once they realized that he was obviously unharmed but that maybe his family had been affected by the tests. They’d avoid the topic and he was safe.

Zhenya tilted his head. “What do you look like?”, he asked. “Everyone says you’re good-looking. I don’t know what qualifies at good-looking though. Can I…” He stopped, then shook his head. “No, that’s too much I guess.”

“Can you  _ what _ ?”, Otabek asked.

“Nothing”, Zhenya replied and chuckled. “You won’t let me.”

“You can not know that”, Otabek gave back. “What is it?”

With a sigh Zhenya sat up. “The thing is”, he said hesitantly, “even if you tell me what you look like, it’s not like I know what it means. When you say, you have blonde hair, I don’t know what that is. Theoretically I know, blonde is light and then there’s brown and red and black and grey and even white. But I don’t know what it means. Same for skin color and eye color and stuff. I don’t discern people like that. When you say you look Asian, I know that they differ from people from Scandinavia and Africa and stuff, and I know the eye shape is different, for example, but it’s not like I can picture it.”

Otabek hummed affirmatively. “How do you discern people then?”

At that Zhenya laughed. “By literally anything else. It takes a little longer, but I get to know people by their voices, their smell, the way their breathing sounds, something like that. And once I get to know someone better by the way they… feel.” He looked a little helpless, then continued: “It helps me to touch people. That way I can make a picture of them in my head.”

“And that’s what you wanted to ask me about?”

Zhenya shrugged. “It’s okay if that’s too much for you. We are strangers after all.”

It was easier to make out Zhenya in the darkness now that Otabek’s eyes had adjusted to the dim flickering light of the lantern down there on the sideboard. The boy had turned his head to ‘look’ down the stairs, his eyes half closed. He was pretty with his pale skin and thick dark hair, his lashes curved just like his expressive eyebrows. He didn’t look like Maksim at all. He must have a really gorgeous mother, his sisters just as cute, but different from them Zhenya had already lost the innocence that naturally surrounded the triplets. He was way too mature for his age, likely due to the blindness, a certain sadness shimmering on his pretty face. 

Otabek couldn’t imagine how it must feel to not be able to see anything at all. How it was to hear everyone talking about what something looked like and never know. He imagined what it would have been like if he had lost his eyesight because of the injuries he had endured. One of the attackers had broken his nose and his forehead had received a serious blow that had split his eyebrow. What if they had damaged his eyes? He would have never been able to notice the weird plant on the pedestal. Had never been able to see the tears welling in his father’s eyes. Had never noticed how Zarina looked exactly like Khaligaz. He had never recognized the tattoo on that guy’s neck outside the Chinese restaurant. Had never been back there in the club to lay eyes on Yuri in the pink and blue spotlights dancing like there was no tomorrow. Had never ever seen those pretty eyes again. Those eyes that were vital to him. Those eyes that meant the world to him.

And now he sat here next to a young boy who’d never know all this. Who was by himself in the darkness of this hallway when everyone else was having fun just next door but still in another world. Just - he wasn’t alone, was he?

“You know”, Otabek said and he could hear the smile in his voice himself, “when Boris invited me to come to celebrate tonight I asked him why he would want me here. I arrived in Moscow not even two weeks ago and I got to know the man only last weekend. And he said to me that once I was part of this clan, part of this bratva, it was as good as being a part of the family. So, it’s up to you to decide, but if you like we don’t need to be strangers.”

Zhenya turned towards him with a strange smile. “If you ever want to get rid of that fairytale hero image you really should stop being so goddamn nice…”

“Maybe tomorrow”, Otabek said chuckling and sat up too. “Can I take your hand?”

Biting his lower lip Zhenya nodded and held his hand out.

Otabek took it and carefully directed it to his left cheek. Zhenya’s fingertips were cold, like they were made of ice. 

“Shit, you’re hot, what are you, the human radiator?”, the boy said and smirked. When Otabek let go of his hand he let his fingertips dance over Otabek’s cheek, then downwards to where the scar was. He let his index finger follow it down his jawline to his chin. He rose his other hand too and touched Otabek’s other cheek softly. “I thought you were bearded”, he confessed with a smile. 

“Asians rarely have beards”, Otabek explained and Zhenya nodded slowly. His left hand remained on Otabek’s cheek, the other travelled back up until it reached his ear, then a little farther. “Short hair”, he murmured, but when he touched the longer top corrected himself: “Undercut. Pretty cool. Can I touch your nose?”

“Sure.” Otabek closed his eyes as Zhenya’s fingers wandered downwards, over the line of his eyebrows and then farther south along the scarred bridge of his nose. Reaching the tip of his nose he broke contact and gently placed his hand on Otabek’s cheek again.

“I think they’re right”, he murmured and Otabek opened his eyes again. “You look kinda okay, I guess, your ears are just as big as fucking lettuce leaves.”

It made Otabek laugh lowly. “Thank you for nothing!”

Sitting back the boy placed his hands in his lap and smiled. It was a very peaceful, content smile, and pretty, even in the dark. “So, why are you so nice to me again?”

The question came surprisingly. But just as surprisingly Otabek didn’t have a hard time coming up with an answer: “I think we are alike”, he murmured

(and Yuri stares back at him, like he wants to disagree but for some reason he just doesn’t. He looks at him like Otabek isn’t the total weirdo who brought him up here to tell him the awkward story about how he fell in love with him. Not that he said it exactly like that. And maybe beating around the bush made it sound even more like he’s a creep. But Yuri doesn’t object. He doesn’t run away or calls the police or insults him. He just looks at him and Otabek has so much hope all of a sudden. 

“So”, he says, slowly, “what is it? Friends?” And then, in this moment wonderful beyond words Yuri holds out his hand.)

Zhenya smiled.

 

**а**

 

Otabek had only heard of the Tor network, but it turned out to be very useful. 

The smile of the girl at the reception desk had once more reminded him that he needed to find another place to stay, the sooner the better. The internet had provided him with the idea. The network allowed him to interact with other users completely anonymously. All he needed was the program that allowed him access and at the same time encrypted his access as well as the counterpart’s. That way he could look for a small apartment and even pay for it without any risk to be discovered. The funny thing was that using the network and the bitcoins to pay for it once he had found one, it was entirely possible that he had just rented one of Orlov’s apartments without any of them being aware of it. The bratva was in possession of a majority of the real estate in Moscow after all, so it was likely that the small flat only a few minutes from the Kompaniya was one of Orlov’s objects. 

It had been pure luck that Otabek had seen the address in the log. It turned out that the apartment was not only tiny and only accessible through a backstreet, but also conveniently close to the building that housed the Orlov Kompaniya and - more importantly - the loft of Katyusha Anatoliev Orlov. 

When Otabek stepped inside the apartment on friday it felt more like a cold store than a place to live. The landlord had quoted that the flat had been empty for some time and that there was nothing in it. He had not understated. Looking around Otabek found only blank concrete walls, bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, a lone heater under the two windows. The bathroom left to the door had a shower that looked like it had been installed subsequently, a toilet and a sink with a mirror with one missing corner. There wasn’t even a shower curtain, so after putting his suitcase down Otabek left the flat again to go and find a furniture store.

He found one that even allowed him to rent a car to transport the mattress he had bought along with a blanket and pillow as well as some sheets back to the flat.

It might have been some kind of office he thought when he had carried the mattress up there. The single room was located above a warehouse that still had the sign of a printing company bolted to the outer wall, the colors ironically fading away and making the letters hard to read. Underneath the old sign was one of newer origin that had the name of a hauling company in Turkish painted on it with black paint on light blue background. The shutters of the driveways as well as the gate to the parking lot were closed whenever Otabek came across them though, so he suspected the company was closed on fridays because of  _ salah al-jum’ah _ , the friday’s prayer, or didn’t run anymore. He was fine with that though. The less people saw him here the better.

After returning the car to the store he went to a small shop some streets from his new home that sold used electronic and household goods. He purchased a small electric cooking plate and a kettle, a mug and a tea pot. Afterwards he headed to the department store to get smaller things such as towels, shampoo and a box of black tea.

It took him until night to make the flat look sore or less inhabited and even when he was finished it was cold and inhospitable. The mattress on the floor under the two windows next to the heater with dark grey sheets, the old cooking plate with the plain kettle on the floor in the far back and his black suitcase made the room look more like someone had forgotten some things when moving out instead of the other way around. It was empty. But it was all he needed for now.

He tried to sleep, waking up again and again, irritated by the unfamiliar surroundings. At one point he had trouble falling asleep again; there was a streetlight right in front of his windows and after some time staring at the two bright squares on the opposite wall he got up with a groan. He still had the cardboard boxes and the wrapping paper the mattress and the cooking plate had come in and peeling the duct tape from the sheets’ foil the managed to cover the window panes with the thick material shutting the light of the outside lamp out. He looked at the windows frowning. It reminded him of the window in Yuri’s old room back in the apartment where he had lived with his grandfather, the one he had covered in ripped off wallpaper and pages from textbooks. He felt something but it took him a few minutes before he recognized the emotion, laying down on his improvised bed: it was yearning. He missed Yuri. He wanted to see him. 

Closing his eyes he recalled this night a few days ago when Yuri had come to his hotel room. The mess of his wonderful hair against Otabek’s skin, the fragile ribcage under his fingers, his lips on Otabek’s neck, so soft. His hand found his way down there beyond the waistband of his jerseys. He thought of Yuri’s hands grasping his shirt, his beautiful hands, the white of his complexion even fairer when in direct contrast to Otabek’s own tan skin. His scent, so vivid, so young, so pure despite all the things he had gone through. He thought of Yuri on his couch in Almaty, the slightly parted lips as he looked up to Otabek, those pretty lips he wanted to kiss, eventually,  _ please. _ He thought of Yuri stumbling out of the night club, his legs so long in those incredibly high heels and the fur of his coat caressing his white throat. His eyes wide when he recognized Otabek and this little blush on his nosetip. His lashes a dark gold, like honey, and his eyes as green as lake Balqash where the Karatal river fed it.

“Yuri”, he whispered when he came into his hand, eyes squint shut even in the pitch black of his room. He wiped his hand on the inside of his jerseys and fell asleep immediately.

The sound of his phone made him startle awake in the middle of the night again. His heart had skipped a beat, but he took a deep breath comprehending that it was only an incoming call. Probably JJ again, who wanted to ask how things were going.

The number on the display read 91617050829 and he picked up with a weak “Hello?”

There was a moment of silence, then Otabek heard a heartbreaking sob from the other end of the line. His mind raced before he perceived that it couldn’t be JJ. He had changed his card a few days ago - the only one in the world who knew this number and was not in the contact list with his name was Yuri!

“Yuri”, he said as calm as his heavily beating heart allowed him to. “Yuri, is that you?” When the person on the other hand started crying audibly he recognized the voice. “Yuri”, he called, panic rising in his chest. “What’s wrong, why are you crying?” 

Again this terrible sobbing was to be heard then Yuri with shaking voice and barely understandable managed to get out: “Where are you?”

“I’m here”, he replied. “I’m in my room. What’s wrong Yuri, why are you crying? Did something happen?”

It was hard to make out the words in between the heavy sobs. “Where are you?”, Yuri repeated.

“I’m here. I’m here on the phone with you.” He sighed. “I’m worried, Yuri. Are you alright? Did something happen to you? Are you hurt?”

“I am!” The sudden yelling made Otabek flinch. “I am fucking hurt, you asshole, what do you think?! I came to see you and you are not here, what did you think I would feel like?”

A suspicion arose in Otabek’s throat, making him swallow hard. “Yuri”, he said slowly. “Tell me where you are.”

“I’m at your fucking hotel, bastard,  _ where you are not _ , according to that little bitch at the reception!”

Of course he was. Otabek ran his fingers through his hair in a desperate gesture. Yuri had gone there once when he had felt the urge to see Otabek. Of course he’d do it again. Otabek could only imagine what it had felt like when the receptionist had informed Yuri that he was gone. Even after repeating so often that he’d rather have Otabek as far away from Moscow as possible he had clung to him like it meant dying if he let go of him. Of course he had come back. And Otabek had not told him that he’d move, that he’d find another place to stay, a place that was secure and hidden and where no one would find him - not even Yuri.

“Did you come with your car?”, Otabek asked, getting up from the bed.

“Yes.” Yuri’s voice broke, so he continued whispering: “But you’re not here.”

“Stay where you are, I’ll come pick you up.”

“Otabek”, Yuri whined, his anger vanishing into thin air and the sobbing coming back.

“Yuri, stay where you are. I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay”, the Russian sniveled and Otabek hung up.

He didn’t even change out of his jerseys, just put on a sweater and his shoes and jacket before hurrying outside. He ran over to the main street to fetch a taxi, and told the driver the address. “I’ll pay you double if you make it in less that 10 minutes”, he promised and the man nodded, accelerating like Colin McRae had returned from the dead.

_ I’m on my way _ , Otabek typed.  _ Wait for me _ .

The symbol in the lower right corner indicated that Yuri had read the message, then a reply came in:

_ 91617050829: ive always waited for you _

Otabek could only stare at the line. He couldn’t even avert his eyes as the text disappeared after 30 seconds.

“Hurry”, he said and the driver did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might be the worst cliffhanger I ever wrote, but if I had added how this continues it would have ended up an 8k chapter or sth lol Sorry bout that!!  
> BTW, I posted a loooot of info about this ff on tumblr this week, check out [the MiM timeline](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/165257934619/midnight-in-moscow-timeline),[trivia about the Orlov crest](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/165302702039/the-crest-of-the-orlov-bratva-read-the-mafia-au) and [Otabek's social environment](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/165341814189/midnight-in-moscow-otabeks-social-environment) if you like, or follow me to chat and stay up to date ^^  
> Also, halfway through I decided to throw out Yuri and skip ten years so Otabek and Zhenya can be lovers and Yuri can be happy with Daddy. LOOOL No, but seriously, I think Zhenya is my best original character EVER (sry Dima orz). And he's only 13, guess how cute he'll be once he's out of puberty. XD  
> Anyway, please drop me a line if you liked it! See you next week! <3


	20. Ice 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to this chapter for a loooooong time now!   
> Btw [check out Yuri's shoes here](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/165687697729/im-just-uploading-mims-new-chapter-and-those-are)

It was almost two in the morning.

After some minutes it started to rain. First just a little, a few raindrops on the window. Then, a few moments later the driver switched on the windscreen wiper. By the time they arrived at the hotel he had accelerated the wiping speed to the fastest pace.

They didn’t make it in less than 10 minutes, but it wasn’t the driver’s fault and Otabek payed him the double amount nevertheless. He could see the R8 a few meters from the hotel entrance, the parking light illuminating the front like the glow of a predator’s eyes in the dark of the night.

He ran across the street as the taxi sped away and it felt like there was no one awake in the entire dark city but him. The rain fell so hard it almost hurt on his body, like gunshots even through the fabric of his sweater. Rain ran down his neck and even lower down his spine like a caress of icy fingers before it was absorbed by his clothing. It was indescribably cold and Otabek shivered when he arrived at the Audi. 

Through the wet window he saw Yuri in the driver’s seat. The image was rippled in a bizarre way, the blonde bent over in the seat, shoulders hunched and blonde hair falling loose from his messy bun. His reddened eyes, blurred makeup surrounding them like cracks in white porcelain, stared down at the smartphone between his tensed fingers.

“Yuri!”, he exclaimed, hoping that his voice could be heard beyond the rain hitting the car noisily. When Yuri didn’t show any signs of reaction he knocked at the glass, carefully to not scare Yuri. There was no reaction. “Yuri”, he tried again, knocking harder. Yuri didn’t move. Otabek tried to open the door but it was locked, of course. “Yuri!!”, he called out louder, his knuckles banging painfully against the cold glass. 

Yuri didn’t move and eventually Otabek started to panic. Through the rain running down the window in thick streams he couldn’t see if Yuri blinked, if he even breathed. “I’m here!”, he called, pressing his hands against the cold, wet glass. The rain had him soaked to the bone by now, his jaw jittering from the cold. “I’m here Yuri! Please, open the door!” 

Finally Yuri moved, flinching, then almost unnoticeably shook his head. 

“Please Yuri”, Otabek’s voice sounded desperate. “I’m sorry, Yuri. Please open the door, let me talk to you, let me explain! I’m sorry!!”

Yuri jerked his head around and stared at Otabek through the wavy pattern of rain on glass. His tears smudging his makeup in a way that almost looked artistic mirrored on the window. Those fair green eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dark. Yuri’s face was pale and frozen like a mask. It was the creepiest thing Otabek had ever seen. Finally Yuri reached out to open the door. Otabek made a step to the side to let Yuri open the door, not prepared for Yuri to step out of the car and slap his hand across Otabek’s face in a rapid blow stinging with pain.

Otabek stumbled back in surprise, still processing the hit when Yuri jumped at him, wrapping his arms around Otabek’s neck crying loudly.

“I hate you!”, he screamed, clinging to Otabek closer than Otabek’s wet black sweater seemed to. “You fucking asshole! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I thought you were gone, I thought you had left me! I’m so mad at you, I’m so- so...!” His hands went up, weaving his fingers into the drenched black hair. “I’m sorry… Please, please…”, the rest dispersing into trembling sobs.

“It’s okay”, Otabek whispered, hugging Yuri close. “I’m here now. I won’t leave you, I promise.” His cheek seemed to burn from Yuri’s hand, but he felt like he deserved it. He held Yuri close, then breathed a kiss onto the golden hair, then another one. “I’m here.” Then another one. “I’m here.” 

Yuri nodded but didn’t stop crying.

After some moments the shudder became hard to ignore. “Hey, let’s get you into the car, you’ll get all soaked. How about we head over to my place and talk about what happened”, Otabek murmured and Yuri nodded again, then distanced himself from Otabek.

“I’ve been drinking”, he confessed, the tears and the rain both making his mascara stain his pale cheeks in black streaks.

Otabek frowned. Now that Yuri mentioned it he could smell it: a heavy, alcoholic scent in his breath, sweet and poisonous like berries and vodka. “I’ll drive”, he said and accompanied Yuri to the passenger seat, his hand gentle on the small of Yuri’s back. He let Yuri get in, then closed the door carefully before heading over to the driver’s side. With a sigh he opened the door, plucked Yuri’s phone from the seat and got in. “Here”, he said, handing Yuri the device. The boy took it with a hoarse “Thanks”, then hunched his shoulders again like he wanted to hide from Otabek.

“Yuri”, he mumbled, “did you drive under the influence of alcohol?” 

“I’m sorry”, Yuri sobbed. “I wanted to see you. I needed to see you…”

Otabek took one of Yuri’s cold hands and squeezed it softly. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have picked you up.”

“I couldn’t. I was at the ‘shade, if someone had heard me… I’m sorry...”

“It’s okay.” Otabek ran his thumb over the back of Yuri’s hand. “Just promise me that you’ll never do something that stupid again. You could have had an accident. Something could have happened to you, you understand that, don’t you?” Yuri nodded weakly. “I can’t lose you. Please, promise me that you’ll never do something that thoughtless again, will you?”

Again Yuri nodded. “I promise.”

It was insane how pretty Yuri was, even now, his makeup a mess, his hair glittering with raindrops, his hands trembling. Otabek could only stare at him as Yuri had his eyes lowered on the carbon fibre dashboard of the R8. There was no denying it, he loved him like crazy.

“Let’s get out of here”, he sighed and trying to slick his dripping wet hair back he started the engine.

The drive was short and silent. Neither of them uttered a word, the rain hitting the window and the growling of the engine the only sounds audible. Otabek steered the car through the rain all the way until stopping behind the Turkish company’s warehouse, right where the metal stairs led up to his flat’s entrance door. “Here we are”, he said as he cut the engine and the interior lights of the car came to life dimly. Yuri looked out of the window bewildered, his tears dried but his eyelids puffy.

“Where did you take me?” His voice was not more than a whisper.

“This is where I live now”, Otabek replied. It made Yuri turn his head to look at him in disbelief, so he felt the urge to explain himself to Yuri: “The night you broke into my room, and every time I saw that receptionist girl’s smile afterwards, I came to think that this place was not safe. Not that I’m not glad that you found me there - I thank all Gods that you came to see me in this night, because... “, he sighed, “I needed you back then, more than you probably realize. But it also made me come to the conclusion that if you had found me, then other people would be able to do so as well. And that I need a place that’s safe, that’s hidden. A place where I can sleep without the gun next to my pillow. That’s why I decided to move. Because you said that I need to be very, very careful with my life.” He rose his hand, tucking a moist strand behind Yuri’s ear. “I know now that you were right. And I will be careful.” His hand fell back into his lap as he smiled a sad smile. Yuri had no idea how guilty he felt. But maybe he’d realize after tonight. Maybe - hopefully! - Otabek had the opportunity to get so many things off his chest eventually. And to apologize to Yuri for everything he had made the boy go through. “It was a mistake to not tell you in time. I should have considered that you’d be scared. But I was irresponsible and I made you suffer. Again. I am very sorry, Yuri. Really, I’m sorry.”

Yuri bit his lip, then reached out to touch Otabek’s right hand, the one with the laceration and the scars on the wrist from the surgery. His fingers felt like ice on Otabek’s skin. “Thank you for taking me with you”, he whispered looking down on the gentle touch of white on tan skin.

Maybe this was the moment. Maybe now, here in the car with the rain drumming onto the Audi’s roof, with Yuri’s fingers so gentle on the back of his hand, maybe this was the moment he would lean over to this beautiful young man and kiss him, softly, not to scare him away. Just a tiny, gentle kiss on those cold pink lips, their hands still touching, so soft but at the same time meaningful beyond words. It would show Yuri how he felt, how he had felt for so long now, tell him what words couldn’t express, at least no words Otabek could think of. 

But he was scared. Yuri trusted him. And he could never impose on Yuri because of his selfish emotions. Not now that the boy was so vulnerable. Not now. Maybe not ever. And certainly not in such an encroaching way. So in the end he pulled his hand away from Yuri’s and gestured towards the metal stairs. “Shall I show you my place?”

Yuri pulled his hand back as well, fingers clinging to the seam of his loose-knit black cardigan, and nodded.

As Otabek got out of the car the rain and cold hit him like a gunshot. His clothes stuck to his body like a second skin and he was glad that once they were up inside he could get a change of clothes. It had been uncomfortable in the car despite the ventilation streaming out warm air but it would be so much better to finally be dry again. He hurried over to the passenger door, opening it and holding out a hand for Yuri and at the same time digging his key out of his pocket. Only when Yuri got out of the car too Otabek realized that the blonde was almost as wet. The cardigan looked drenched and the black blouse shimmered with wetness, flat against Yuri’s bony chest. The boy shivered like a leaf and Otabek slammed the door shut, locking the car with the remote as he dragged Yuri up the metal stairs as fast as Yuri could make it in his chain decorated high heeled boots. The key fell to the floor when he tried to unlock his door with a metallic clank. Otabek stifled a curse when he bent down to pick it up, the key dripping with water. When he finally managed to tear the door open he let Yuri enter first, the blonde hugging his waist as if that could shield him from the cold. Otabek was glad that Russian heaters were so reliable. The warmth of the flat embraced them as a cozy billow. Otabek didn’t waste any time to close the door behind him and shut the cold and rain out. He switched the single bare light bulb on and turned the key from the inside, then shot both the bolds thoroughly.

“Let me fetch you a towel”, he said and entered the bathroom. There was no hot water after half past midnight even in winter. It hadn’t looked like much more than a minor inconvenience when he had found the flat but now Otabek cursed Moscow for being so forbidding. He took the bathing towel from the shower curtain rod and the spare small one then turned back to where Yuri was standing next to the entrance door like a marble statue.

“Here.” Otabek handed the big white towel to Yuri who started drying his hair absentmindedly. Otabek could feel his own frown as he watched Yuri for a moment. He didn’t know what it was exactly - the alcohol, the shock from earlier, the cold or all of that combined - but it seemed like Yuri radiated a certain kind of despair, a feeling of plain sadness and loneliness that felt like a knife being pressed into Otabek’s heart very, very slowly. “Come, I’ll give you some dry clothes”, he murmured and Yuri followed him silently into the single room.

Around the corner Otabek’s suitcase sat on the floor, open. He squatted in front of it ignoring the drops of rainwater that fell from his messy hair and onto his luggage while lifting the shirts to pluck the second pair of sweatpants from the pile. “I’m pretty sure those are not your size”, he stated turning towards Yuri and tried to smile but it died on his lips when Yuri dropped the towel and sank to his knees next to him, wrapping his thin arms around Otabek’s shoulders without a word. Yuri hid his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck and just held him silently. He didn’t cry, nor did he say anything and it made Otabek feel very helpless as he carefully pulled Yuri in a gentle embrace.

“Yuri”, he whispered, like saying the name would comfort both of them.

Yuri only held him more tightly and with a sigh Otabek just held the shivering body close to himself, eventually running his hands over the slender back.

They sat like that for some moments, the rain still audible on the roof over their heads. It felt for Otabek like the time had stopped, the two of them isolated in the yellow light of the bulb hanging from the ceiling. Yuri’s breath was calm, his heart beating against Otabek’s chest heavily. Otabek closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the scent of the blonde hair, cigarette smoke, shampoo and Yuri.

“I’m cold”, Yuri said after what felt like forever and Otabek let go of him, pushing Yuri away at arm’s length his hands on the skinny shoulders. “We have to get you out of those wet clothes”, he said and cupped Yuri’s cheek who tilted his head to lean into the touch slightly. If he focused Otabek could feel his insides clench at the sight. His beautiful, vulnerable fairy, so susceptible for his affection. Like he felt the same for him, like he needed his touch just as much as Otabek needed it. It almost gave him hope but he knew he couldn’t give in to it. It was nothing but a dream, nothing but reverie. What Yuri really needed was much more his care as a reliable friend, as a guardian who’d protect him. His emotions only blurred his sight and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

He let go of Yuri, holding the sweatpants out to him, then a t-shirt and a sweater from his suitcase too. “You can wear this. If we hang your clothes up over the radiator they’ll be dry in no time. When you have changed let’s get you under the blanket to warm you up a little. I don’t want you to get ill.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer but took a shirt and boxers from his suitcase. It was weird to have Yuri get up and slowly peel the cardigan from his shoulders, undressing like in slow motion, and he tried hard not to stare. When Yuri unbuttoned his pants Otabek rose to his feet blushing. “I’ll go to the bathroom”, he blurted out and rushed to the small cabin.

The mirror with the missing corner showed him his reddened cheeks and painful frown. His fingers clutched the edge of the sink as he tried not to think too much about the skinny body under the expensive black sheets of clothing. He tried not to remember how sinful those long legs looked in the black Chanel boots or to imagine what they’d look like without the tight pants.

“Shit, Erasyl, calm down”, he hissed to himself and turned away to finally dry his hair and body and get into the dry shirt and boxers.

He hesitated when he was finished. He didn’t want to catch Yuri naked and unaware. So he tried to get his messy hair in order, the thick black strands moist and wiry hanging down his forehead. It was futile and he didn’t even own a blow dryer so he just combed it to the side with his fingers, sighing when some strands immediately fell back down. There was no helping it. He folded the soaked clothes unnecessarily, grimacing as he remembered how he had wiped his hand on the inside of the jerseys earlier that night.

After some moments he really didn’t know what to do with himself anymore, so he put the wet clothes down under the sink in order to take them to the coin laundry tomorrow and peeked out of the half closed door.

He was stunned when he saw Yuri, topless and his back turned towards the bathroom door. But it was not admiration for the elegant and fragile limbs that made his breath catch in his throat, nor concern over the prominent bones casting shadows in the yellow light. It was shock about the eagle and the diamond inked into the creamy white skin, sitting right above the waistline of Otabek’s track pants he had changed into. The bird’s body sat in the middle of the small of Yuri’s back making it look like the wings grew out of Yuri’s very own spine. The trackpants being way too loose for Yuri rode low on his hips and it showed the pointy end of the diamond ending right where a shadow hinted at the creek farther below. The tattoo was big, much bigger than the one on Otabek’s arm and it blew his heart into smithereens.

It had been stupid to not assume that Yuri had the tattoo as well. He was Orlov’s favourite toy after all. And while the bracelet, this disgusting silver manacle around Yuri’s delicate wrist, was not permanent even with the screws that were had to open, and could be removed,  _ this couldn’t _ . What Nad had warned him about unfolded before him in all it’s horrible magnitude. Yuri belonged to Orlov, stamped like an object, like a cheap whore, branded and marked now and forever. A stigma, black and ugly on Yuri’s perfect skin.  _ Please, no. _

He noticed the tears as Yuri covered himself in the shirt Otabek had given him, the tattoo and his skinny frame disappearing from Otabek’s sight that was blurred by that time already. He exited the bathroom when Yuri got into the sweater, tears dripping from his black lashes and without a word he hugged Yuri close, overwhelmed with the feeling of regret.

“Otabek”, Yuri whispered, then hugged him back. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Otabek just shook his head, crying into moist blonde strands. He was the one to be sorry. But he couldn’t even say it, the guilt choking him.

“I’m cold”, Yuri added after a moment and Otabek let go of him and led him to the mattress, sitting down next to Yuri and wrapping the blanket around both their bodies. Yuri seemed to melt into him and he caressed the tangled thatch and the bony shoulders until he calmed down and stopped crying.

“I remember when we went to Antalya”, Yuri murmured, his voice a little slurred from the alcohol, leaning his head against Otabek’s collarbone. “It was nice there. And so hot in summer. We couldn’t go out that one day because it was too hot and so we stayed inside until the sun had set. Do you remember that?”

“Yes”, Otabek whispered. It was blurry, but it was there, the bright white of the sunshine fading away into orange and pink and the sounds of the cooling down city as day turned into night.

“We went to the ice cream parlour and you bought me a strawberry sundae. We shared it back home on the sofa, this terrible brown sofa.” He chuckled lightly. “That was the best strawberry sundae I ever had.” He looked up to Otabek. “I was so scared. I wanted to see you. But when I arrived at the hotel this stupid cute girl just smiled this stupid heartbroken smile and said that you were gone. I couldn’t believe it. She assured me that you had left in the morning and she looked like you broke up with her.” He frowned. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I was just so scared. I didn’t mean to hit you, either.”

“It’s okay”, Otabek repeated. “I should have told you. I just didn’t think…” The words trailed off and Otabek sighed. “I am really sorry.”

At that Yuri shook his head. “Was that me?”, he asked, touching the small cut on Otabek’s cheek where the branch had scratched him on the day of Anka’s birthday. “No, that happened earlier this week.”

Yuri smiled and let his fingertips dance across Otabek’s skin very much like Zhenya had done, but slower, softer, his eyes following his every motion. “All those scars”, he whispered his breath still smelling like berries and booze, “are these all…?” When Otabek nodded Yuri bit his lower lip, his thumb brushing the split eyebrow lightly.

“Yuri”, Otabek murmured and closed his eyes. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

“What is it?” His face was so close he could feel Yuri’s sweet breath on his lips. It felt divine and Otabek opened his eyes again to make this longing hopefully go away.

“Yuri, did you pay for my hospital bills?”

The green eyes darted from Otabek’s eyebrow to his lips, then back up to his eyes. “It was the least I could do”, he replied slowly and with a smile, but it had a twist somewhere, like he knew that there was something wrong with his statement.

Otabek forced himself not to grind his teeth at the affirmation. “The money”, he murmured. “Did you sell your body to earn the money and pay for my bills?”

Yuri’s eyes shimmered like gems. “It was the least I could do.”

That smile was still there and Otabek hated it.

“Why?”, he asked, the word not more than a gasp.

Yuri looked at him puzzled. “What do you mean ‘why’? What else should I have done?”

“I don’t know”, he replied, his insides aching. “Not that.”

The golden eyebrows crinkled. “And watch them shut down the machines?” The frown was so familiar on Yuri’s face. “Do you even know what you are suggesting, Otabek? It was the only thing that could keep you alive. Money. And I was the one responsible, I was the one you died for-”

“I didn’t die!”

“But you would have!” There was pain in Yuri’s eyes now as he sat up and grasped Otabek by the shoulders. “You would have died two and a half years ago and I was the only one who was willing to keep you alive, Otabek! Because everyone was ready to let you go, but I wasn’t,  _ I fucking wasn’t _ ! Everyone had given you up already but I needed you, I needed you alive because Grampa had told me that I owed you and I couldn’t disappoint him too. After I was nothing but a letdown for the entire world, for Lilia and Mila and you, after I had disappointed everyone, I could not disappoint him too. I needed you alive Otabek. That’s why I couldn’t let you die.” The grasp of his hands loosened a little. Otabek could feel them tremble on his shoulders. “It was selfish, I know. And in the end I ran from everything. But I was right. I showed them that hope… hope isn’t futile…” He chuckled with tears welling in his eyes. “I kicked their asses even after I was long gone. How badass is that?!” With a boyish smirk he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand in a way that could only be described as  _ plisetsky _ .

And Otabek was so glad, so relieved, so happy, that this was still his Yuri. But at the same time he couldn’t comprehend.

“When you say”, he asked hesitating, “that everyone had given me up…” He took Yuri’s hands. It was hard to imagine that Yuri’s words were true. He thought of  Khaligaz, of Nurse  Aitmukhambetova, the good soul. He thought of Yuuri crying on the phone and Victor saying his name like it was something very precious to address him, he thought of Mila’s gentleness and JJ who had told him that he was a part of the family. He thought of his father who had looked so old and vulnerable, but tried to remain composed and strong. He thought of his mother, praising Allah, holding his hands, her eyes overflowing with tears. His mother who caressed his hair. His mother who wanted to protect him. But who had also lied to him.  _ You would have died two and a half years ago _ , Yuri had just said and he said it out loud: “Two and a half years ago…”

Yuri bit his lower lip.

Two and a half years ago Yuri had left his grandfather’s apartment behind, had left everything behind, had become Katyusha.  _ Walking down there she sang a song about the gray steppe eagle and about her loved one whose letters she had kept. _

Realization felt like someone filled his veins with boiling lead. “What does that mean?”, he whispered, his pain reflecting in Yuri’s eyes.

“They didn’t tell you.” It was more a statement than a question and when Otabek shook his head the tiniest bit, he entwined his fingers with Otabek’s gently. This small gesture - Yuri holding onto him as if in order to make him feel secure - made Otabek tremble in fear of the words that would follow. “Only after a year they decided to shut the machines down”, Yuri whispered, like speaking lowly would make the words less painful. “Only after a year they decided to let you die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments, I'm desperate to hear what you think about the latest revelations!!!


	21. A fairytale that no one ever knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for not answering your comments, I had four teeth extracted this week and I really suffered, but your comments kept me alive and made me endure it, thank you so much! At least I managed to write this chapter, which I think turned out really nice (I know I say that every week lol), and I was able to direct this story towards the third part, which I can not say too much about at this point, but will be very nice I think. Anyway, huge cheerful shoutout to Honeykitten, Veterperemen, Lorindaa, Fanatla, Plushietiger and Fukushuu for their amazing comments and anyone who gave me kudos. MiM now has more kudos than my firstborn On love: Monster and I'm so happy everyone supports me so much, thank you a lot! Also, Maike, if you read that, let me know, I need your opinion on something so drop me a line ^^  
> So, without further ado, enjoy this chapter and have a wonderful day!!

“Tell me what happened”, Otabek asked.

The heater made a crackling noise once in a while. Yuri had turned it all the way up to 5 after draping his wet clothes over the white metal when Otabek had still been in the bathroom. The sound was only barely audible with the heavy rain still hitting the flat roof.

“Grampa died on the 27th of August”, Yuri said, still holding Otabek’s hand. “It was a monday. It was sunny and warm and a perfect day. He had been in the hospital for some weeks already. I wasn’t there to say goodbye. They called while I was grocery shopping and when I arrived there it was already over. One of the people from the hospital helped me organizing the funeral. I was 17, I had no idea what to do. I didn’t even know the people who attended the funeral. They were all strangers, shaking my hand, offering their condolences. It was the worst. 

My cat died a few weeks later. It gave me the last blow. I held her dead body in my lap, caressing her soft fur, crying all day. I buried her in the backyard, under the old rosebush in the middle of the night. And when I came back to my room I realized that only you were left. I had abandoned my old life. And my new life had abandoned me eventually. There was only you left. And I was so close to losing you as well that every second felt like hell. 

So I went to see you again. It had been almost a year since I had been in Almaty, and I needed to see you. The memory of you in those white sheets, bruised and injured and… and  _ broken _ , it had haunted me. And I had let it haunt me, because… because I deserved it. Because I felt so guilty that I thought that if you suffered I deserved to suffer too. But at that point I couldn’t take it anymore. So I went there and I saw you and… and it was worse.” 

He squeezed Otabek’s fingers almost painfully, looking down on their hands. “You were so… so… pale… and thin and… You looked like Grampa. You looked like you had died already. Of course the bruises were gone and the bandages and everything but… it was worse than before. I had a breakdown. I think it was overdue. I collapsed next to you right there and one of the nurses came and helped me and they called your parents.” He shot Otabek an insecure glance, before lowering his eyes on their hands again, caressing the back of Otabek’s hands with thin fingers. 

“You mother hates me. She cried and yelled at me to fuck off and that it was all my fault. I know that. And I knew it back then. But I only had you left and I couldn’t leave you. In the end it was your father who told me.” He chuckled a little when he added: “He’s so much like you, it’s scary. It made me cry even harder when he had told your mother to let him talk to me in private for a moment. When the door was closed he just came over to where I stood beside your bed and I was so sure he’d just grab me and throw me out of the window, but instead he grabbed me and hugged me and it was the first time I let someone do that, let someone soothe me. Your super grim, stoic father of all people held me and it felt so… so good. But only for a moment. I think it felt like  _ then _ in that backstreet, before  _ it _ happened, when I… when we… It was the same kind of hug and it now feels like it’s a bad omen, because it precedes terrible things, bad words, things that break my heart. I know that now. You and your father are so alike, and it’s the exact same hug, too. It’s weird. But I didn’t know yet.” 

A tear fell from Yuri’s eye, but he smiled at the memory. “Your father is so much like you, Otabek. He’s calm and strong and dark and quiet, but warm and gentle, just like you. And back then in this fucking blank hospital room it made me realize how much I missed you. You were my best friend. My  _ only _ friend. And he knew how much you meant to me back then. So when he told me that this was most likely our farewell he knew how much it hurt me. He said that they had done everything. They had kept you alive for a year, had sold your flat, your bike, the car and the dacha, everything they could relinquish, but the treatment was expensive and they were at their limit. He said that it was in Allah’s hands now if you would live or if you’d ‘ascend to his gardens and rest in peace and harmony forever’, I remember every word like a curse. I said that I could help, but he didn’t want to hear it, said that I’d need all the resources myself after Grampa had died and I know he was right. He left to give me some time with you. 

And as I watched you, motionless on your bed, these expensive machines running next to it, and as I took your hand and it was thin and limp I felt that it was warm.” He sobbed, more tears falling from his eyes now. “It was warm, Otabek. Your skin was thin like dried petals and gray and your hair a mess, but you were warm. And you were still alive. And I… your father had said that they would spend every single tenge they had on keeping you alive and that you had four... or six weeks and… Otabek…” 

When Yuri’s voice trailed off into heavy sobs Otabek held him close, silent and full of pain himself.

“I couldn’t lose you”, Yuri sobbed against his shoulder. “Not you, too. You were my best friend. You were  _ everything _ to me. I… I needed you. And when… when I was back home I got so angry, so, so angry… and so scared!” His fingers clenched in Otabek’s shirt. “So I ran away. I... I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay”, he whispered. “I would have run away, too-”

“That’s not true!”, Yuri sobbed. “You would have fought Otabek, I know you would have fought until the very end. You always have. But I couldn’t! You called me a soldier, but I’m just a coward who ran away when you needed me the most, because I was so scared. I didn’t want them to tell me that it had happened eventually. I just couldn’t stand the thought, so I ran away and only realized when it was almost too late.” He sat up, wiping the tears from his eyes almost brutally, like he didn’t care if he hurt himself doing so. “But I did! I drugged myself to the eyeballs, until I forgot who I was. But the thought of you just wouldn’t go away, no matter what I drank and smoked and swallowed, my brain was gone but my heart… I just couldn’t make the pain go away. So of course I took Miss Pavilevskaya’s offer without second thought. Because if I knew for sure that one thing could save you it was money. Even if it was for just another day. Even for just another minute…” He rose his hand, tracing the scar on Otabek’s jaw with trembling fingers. He smiled and there was so much hope in it that Otabek’s heart hurt. “Every single second of your life is worth any kind of agony.”

Otabek didn’t know what to say. It made sense, everything Yuri had just said. Every word, every syllable fell in place like the pieces of a puzzle and still - the image that showed itself as the result was still so wrong, so obnoxious, so cruel. How could he not know what to say or what to do when Yuri had just unveiled that he had sacrificed himself to keep Otabek alive? The only thing he felt he was capable of was sitting there and stare at this terrible smile, slowly processing the hell Yuri had gone through for him. And he felt guilty. So in the end, he closed his eyes, leaning into the gentle touch of Yuri’s fingers and whisper: “I’m sorry.” And: “Thank you.”

Unexpectedly Yuri chuckled and withdrew his hand, only to pull Otabek in a chummy hug. “You’re welcome”, he laughed, his berry-sweet breath on Otabek’s lips as the blonde pressed his forehead against Otabek’s jaw. “I’m just glad I have you back in all your stoic, cute awkwardness.” He sat up again and disheveled Otabek’s hair with both hands.

(“What in the name of God are you doing?!”

Yuri stares at him with glittering eyes, kneeling next to him on his couch, his hands still in Otabek’s messed up hair. His grin is so wide that Otabek can not even be annoyed about how Yuri just ruined his hair completely. And that’s noteworthy because Otabek is usually not the type to be very squeamish when it’s about his appearance, but his hair! His hair is important and so wiry it’s really hard to tame. He had to experiment a lot before he found a haircut that worked with his super thick locks and it still takes some effort to make him look presentable. And Yuri ruined it all in mere seconds with nothing more than his pretty fingers and nothing but mischief on his mind.

“I always wanted to do that”, he smirks contently and then he almost gives Otabek a heart attack by burying his face in Otabek’s hair. The Kazakh stares at the thin collarbones under the loose Heaven Shall Burn T-Shirt with cut-off sleeves right before his eyes. And Yuri’s throat. And the bony chest, that swells with the deep inhale that follows. Yuri’s exhale is almost a rapt sigh whilst Otabek doesn’t think he can ever focus on breathing again because after that moment when Yuri placed their hands on his hip just yesterday this is too much, too close, to intimate, too fucking much for his poor heart and especially too much for his goddamn libido to remain under control,  _ for God’s sake _ ! 

What happens is - nothing: somehow he manages to endure it, frowning, jaw clenching. He must look slightly annoyed now, because when Yuri backs away and sits on his calves he messes Otabek’s hair up even more and laughs: “Oh, come on, grumpy cat! I just love your hair and how it smells, don’t look at me like that. It just makes you look even more adorable when you scowl at me like that although I know that you can’t be angry at me for more than two secon- WHA!” He yelps when Otabek jumps at him making a tangled chaos out of that golden strands. He knows Yuri’s ticklish spots, but he knows no mercy and in the end Yuri begs him to stop almost unable to breathe between laughter.)

“You haven’t changed at all”, he said, his tears still shining on his reddened cheeks. His smile was so content now - so happy! - that it made Otabek smile as well, just a little.

“But you have”, he replied. The rain sounded a little less threatening now, almost playful, drumming on the roof like going along with a melody they could not hear down there.

“Is that so?”, Yuri asked tilting his head.

“Yes. You’re even prettier.” He noticed the tiny gasp but he didn’t know if it meant something, or what. “On the outside”, he added. “On the inside you’re still the same edgy brat as usual.”

They both laughed; Yuri deep and hoarse, Otabek lovestruck.

Yuri’s hands combed Otabek’s moist hair more or less back into place. Then his hands fell into his lap and his look onto Otabek’s right lower arm. His smiled faded away, but not completely, a hint of it tugging on his pink lips. “When did you have it made?”, he asked, his eyes following the lines of ink under the skin.

“Shortly after I arrived here in Moscow”, Otabek answered. “Just two weeks ago. It’s not healed completely, it still feels a little sensitive.”

“You shouldn’t have done that”, Yuri said, looking up at him again, but Otabek shook his head.

“There’s so much each of us should not have done, Yuri”, he stated. “But what’s done can’t be undone. We just can try and make the most out of what we have.”

Yuri huffed a laugh. “You still sound like a motto calendar.”

“I’m serious.”

“Of course you are. You always fucking are.”

“I want to get you out of here, Yuri. Both of us.”

Yuri sighed at that and fumbled the tie out of his half-wet bun. “You can’t”, he said, pulling here and there until the blonde strands came free in big messy curls. “I told you already. A thousand fucking times or something.” He hiccuped. The tie came to lie on the sheets and he combed through his hair with his fingers carefully. “Maybe there’s still a chance that you can get out of this, but I can’t. I’m far too deep into this, this is my life now and it will always be.”

“I’ll find a way”, Otabek hurried to say and he reached out to grab both Yuri’s wrists.

The blonde looked up at him like a Boticelli painting, phantasmagorically beautiful. “There  _ is _ no way.”

“I’ll find one”, Otabek insisted. He would, he knew he would. Maybe not today, maybe not next week, but he’d not rest until Yuri could take the bracelet off that shone so innocently on his right arm.

The boy sighed. “Listen, Otabek. I know you have the best intentions… but, you know… That will sound crazy now, but... I kinda like it like that. My life.” He lowered his arms, the blonde strands framing his face in a plaiting so perfect in its disarray. “I’m… I wouldn’t say that I’m happy… Or maybe I am now that I know that you are alright. But the least I can say is that I got used to this life. I mean, you know, I have a home. I have something like a family. I have money and food and a car and a pet… Well, no, not a pet, but that’s the thing: I can get a new one anytime, an ocelot or a puma or a lynx or even a fucking snow leopard. I have more designer clothes than I could ever dream of, I have the crème de la crème of EDM playing for me, I can afford more cocaine than you can imagine if I want it-”

“But you’re not happy.”

Yuri faltered. “I wasn’t. I am now.”

The emotions swirled in Otabek’s chest. “Why now?”

“Because… because you are fine.”

That was it. “Because I’m here.”

Yuri nodded. “Because you’re here”, he echoed. When Otabek just looked at him it seemed to click. With half a shake of his head Yuri wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “You… you wouldn’t leave me, would you?”

“Of course I wouldn’t”, Otabek said frowning. “I can’t. I don’t want to. I swore to save you.”

“But I don’t want you to save me!”, Yuri objected. “I just want you to stay with me!” He looked around. “We’ll make this a place for you to live. Or we’ll find you another place. Somewhere nice, somewhere where we can be together-”

“When daddy isn’t looking.”

“-when daddy…” Eyes wide with comprehension Yuri looked at him again.

“I’d be your secret.” Yuri was speechless, so Otabek continued: “We’d share this place. Sometimes. Rarely or occasionally, in rainy nights like these, the few hours between midnight and dawn. But only when you can sneak out of the ‘shade and out of his sight, like his little toy, like his little pet, daddy’s little kitten. Always expecting that he sends someone after you. Always afraid that he will find out. Always afraid that he will do  _ what _ to you, to me, to us? Punish you for being disobedient? Kill me for playing with his kitten? Separate us - again?” Yuri gasped. “Aren’t you afraid? Aren’t you scared, right now, that he will find out and let them finish what they started three years ago? Because I am. I am so scared, Yuri, that he will hurt you, that he will do something to you, anything. I just want to grab your hand and run, run as far as I can and be with you. If you only let me.”

Yuri slumped, his shoulders hanging. After a moment he looked up at him again. “He’ll find us”, he said and by the resignation in his voice Otabek could tell that it was probably true. “He’ll find us and he’ll do things to us that words cannot describe. I can’t risk that something happens to you because of me again. Not again.” He sighed once more. “We just have to be careful, as careful as one can be. There’s a secret exit from my apartment that I can use, one with no cameras. I can come here when he’s away. On the weekends or when he’s with his family on holidays. It’s like you said: rarely or occasionally, in rainy nights, at midnight, mere minutes. But we’ll be careful and he will never know. And in the end it will all add up to hours and days and weeks that we will have spent together alive and well and... “ He bit his lip to hide his smile. “Just the two of us. You and me. You and me together in a way that I had given up already. Like a miracle, like a dream come true.” He chuckled. “Like a fairytale that no one ever knew. No one but us, Otabek. Just you and me. Please.”

And the way Yuri looked at him he could only nod. If this was the Yuri he’d see in those nights, he’d ask for nothing more. It was all he needed.


	22. "Friends"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't go as quick as I thought it would... ^^'  
> I hope you have fun nevertheless! <3

 

It would be their sanctuary, this small empty rundown flat above the Turkish hauling company. It was bleak and plain, nothing but gray. But Yuri’s presence filled the room with gold and ivory, berries and the faint scent of tobacco, tourmaline and rose petals and a deep, raspy laugh.

Otabek drove him home eventually. Yuri was tired and he was as well. The boy’s clothes had dried on the heater and they both changed, Otabek in jeans and a sweater. He noticed that Yuri kept his shirt on under his silky blouse, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t understand most of what had been happening in the past few hours and exhausted as he was he decided to think about everything after a good night’s sleep.

He steered the R8 back into the car park underneath Yuri’s apartment and cut the engine, pondering for a moment. Yuri had been quiet, half asleep leaning into the seat all the way here and Otabek couldn’t think of something to say that wasn’t foolish. So in the end they sat in silence for a moment, before Otabek unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned over. He had never initiated anything with Yuri since that day when he had asked Yuri to become his friend so many years ago. And even then he had asked for permission first. Now he couldn’t. He didn’t seem to be able to come up with a single word, because no word could express the turmoil in his chest and his head and his stomach. So he just leaned over and wrapped his arms around Yuri, carefully first so that Yuri could break the embrace if it was unwanted, but pulling him closer as the blonde leaned into it.

“Otabek”, he murmured, then hugged him back.

“Take care”, Otabek whispered, voice sounding desperate and by God, he was desperate! “Please. Take care. You are the most important. You are everything that counts. If something happens to you, it’s all over. Please, keep that in mind. And whenever you need me, call me, write me, whatever. I’ll be there for you. No matter what time it is or where you are or what is wrong, even if you think it’s nothing, call me and I’ll be there. I came here for you after all. Let me do what I couldn’t do before. Let me be there for you. That’s all I wish for.”

Yuri nodded. “If there’s something… I want to be there for you, too, okay? That’s what friends do after all, right?”

“You did more than enough already”, Otabek objected. 

It made Yuri push him away at arm’s length and look at him upset. “Don’t say that”, he scowled. “I did what was necessary and I’d do it again anytime if it would keep you with me, Otabek. As long as we are friends I’d do anything for you. And we’ll be friends forever, won’t we?” Suddenly he looked hurt. “Won’t we, Otabek?”

“Of course”, he replied as softly as his hurting heart allowed him to.

“Best friends?”

“Best friends.” 

He took a taxi home and tried not to cry. The words stuck to his skin, wrapped around his throat, making it hard to breathe.  _ Best friends _ . Ten years ago he would have given his right hand to hear those words from Yuri. Five years ago too. But now it hurt. It wasn’t enough. It would never be and he knew that as he tried to convince himself that it was more than he could have hoped for. He wanted so much more. He was so greedy.

He laid down on his bed in the darkness again, stared into the black. He imagined that the sheets had Yuri’s scent now. He started crying.

 

**д**

 

In the following weeks something like a routine came to Otabek’s life. Yuri sent him texts occasionally but didn’t dare to come see him because Orlov had him with him a lot these days. All that was left for Otabek was hoping that Yuri was alright and think of him when he laid down in his blank room at night, hoping to see Yuri again soon.

Boris somehow managed to find work for him to do almost on a daily basis: deliveries of goods no one knew more about other than the fact that they were valuable and/or dangerous, collecting money from some bigger companies that were allowed to pick a date for the payment themselves (and all did on point). Most of the time Boris was with him, but three times Aljosha accompanied him because he was the contact person of the ‘client’. 

On this thursday Boris had them drive over to the airport to pick up a guest called Jessenin who had arrived all the way from Israel because Sergej, the regular driver, didn’t pick up his phone. Otabek learned that it was easy for Russians to get papers in Israel for a certain amount of money if the federal police was hot on their trail and that once you had a foreign passport the Russian police had no warrant to take you into custody. That way even big players in the Russian mafia could shake the police hounds off, the police in Israel was bribed and Interpol rarely acted when it came to requests from the Russian police if European or American authorities didn’t benefit from it. It was an expensive but relatively easy way to start a new life without paying the debts from the old one.

They brought Orlov’s guest to the Kompaniya’s office where Orlov himself waited next to the elevator.

“Vanya!”, the man exclaimed and pulled Jessenin in a rough embrace. Boris had said that they had worked together under Orlov’s uncle Tarassov back in the days so Otabek understood why the greeting was so intimate. “It’s only been two years but time has made a bunch of old dicks out of us, hasn’t it?”, he laughed, letting his friend go and looking him up and down.

“Time has nothing to do with that, you have always been a dick”, Jessenin said with a smirk and they both erupted in laughter.

“Boris, would you and your friend take my guest’s luggage to the Tverskaya Street, if you please. Come on, Vanya, let us sit for a moment, you must be tired from the flight.”

A few minutes later, getting into the car Otabek looked over to Boris on the passenger seat. “What’s in Tverskaya street?”, he asked and Boris shrugged. 

“The Ritz-Carlton”, he explained, “Orlov has all his guests stay in the president suite. Which is two floors full of gold and marble.” He laughed. “Not that I have ever seen the place, but there’s rumours. I heard the thing costs three hundred thousand roubles a night.”

Otabek whistled lowly then started the car. He had expected Orlov to own a guesthouse or something, but it was most likely more convenient to just book a hotel and not have to worry about staff and service or about the maintenance when the guest house was empty.

“Well, of course Orlov doesn’t have to pay in his own hotel”, Boris added chuckling and Otabek felt like steering the car into a nearby wall, but somehow managed to not let his surprise show. So Orlov owned the most expensive hotel in all Moscow, too. It should not have surprised him really. But every time he thought he knew as much about the vor as he’d ever get to know he learned new astounding things about the man. Considering he was not even really part of the bratva he had gotten to know a lot by now. Looked like it was about time he started to expect some new surprising fact about Orlov behind every corner. Right now it would hardly surprise him if Orlov had made Putin president by financing his election and in the end gifting him his horse...

They dropped off the luggage at the impressive hotel. The staff nodded knowingly as Otabek mentioned that the suitcase belonged to “the guest of the boss” and took over in all eagerness.

When he returned to the car he caught Boris with a cigarette and a scowl.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Sergej, but it’s starting to piss me off how the bastard just doesn’t pick up his phone”, he hissed, shoving his mobile into his pocket. Otabek had never seen Boris that angry before. “Bet he’s drunk and stoned between some cheap whore’s legs. Asshole.”

“He does that often?”, Otabek inquired, fastening his seat belt.

“Yeah, hell of a lot actually. Even driving plastered half of the time.”

“But,”, Otabek couldn’t keep his voice from having a worried ring to it, “isn’t he supposed to be Katyusha’s driver?”

Boris hummed. “Kind of. He drives Orlov too occasionally, when his usual driver is not available. The boy just doesn’t drive himself when he’s partying so he makes use of Sergej’s services the most. I mean, I really appreciate that the boy doesn’t try and go home by himself after two bottles of vodka or whatever the kids chug nowadays, plus the drugs, so it’s really a good idea to have someone available to take care of him. Just that Sergej isn’t fucking available to do his job even in the middle of the day…” He sighed, clearly annoyed. “If I had kids I wouldn’t let Sergej drive them to begin with, but that’s prolly just me.”

“He has Sergej drive his daughters too?”, Otabek asked, a weight on his chest making it harder to breathe every second.

“No, of course not. Artjom, Orlov’s regular driver does that. He’s been working for him for two decades by now and he’s definitely a guy you can trust with your wife and children. Took a bullet for Orlov once. Not that kind of carouser and whoremonger we are talking about here.”

“So Sergej isn’t good enough for his family but it’s okay when it’s Katyusha”, Otabek suggested, rage rising in his throat.

Boris looked at him bewildered for a second, then shrugged one shoulder. “He prolly doesn’t even realize what an irresponsible son of a bitch Sergej is. We are the ones having all the trouble after all. Like, Aljosha calling us back from collecting when the boy needs a ride and stuff, right?” He scrutinized Otabek for another moment. “You’re mad.”

With a frown Otabek stared at the steering wheel and tried to unclench his hands. They had balled into fists without him noticing. “It’s nothing personal. I just don’t get how you can be so reckless and put the life of innocent people on the line because you have no control over your life”, he murmured. He had to try and calm down so Boris didn’t suspect that it was  _ indeed _ something personal that upset him so much. But he was so angry! How could this bastard risk Yuri’s fragile, precious life by driving him drunk or stoned or both? How could Orlov not be careful about something like that if he said that he loved Yuri so much?

“It’s funny how you call the kitten innocent, but I see your point”, Boris said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Maybe you should drive the boy instead. You don’t drink at all, do you?”

Otabek frowned. “Never.” He looked at Boris sternly but on the inside the thoughts were running wild. Boris was right. He could drive Yuri. He could take care of him. He could protect him. He could be there for him no matter when, no matter what happened. And he could be with Yuri much more often than he could now.

“Why is that so?”, Boris asked and rolled down the window a little more to throw the cigarette stump out, then rolled it up again.

“I’m Muslim”, Otabek replied but after a moment added: “But even if not I wouldn’t drink I guess. I don’t see the benefit in doing so. From what I have experienced the only desirable effect of consuming alcohol or any other drug is that you lose control over your thoughts and your actions. I don’t want that. The thought scares me a little to be honest. To wake up in the morning and not remember what happened the night before. It’s the worst.”

Boris tilted his head. “That’s a very pragmatic point of view.”

At that Otabek nodded slowly. “I had some… bad experiences”, he confessed. “Maybe you think it’s a little extreme, but from what happened to me I learned that I need to remain in control of as many things as possible in whatever situation. But by all means I need to remain in control of myself. That’s vital.” He exhaled slowly, then repeated. “Vital.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy in the compact space of the car and meaningful. Then, almost startling Otabek, Boris said: “Let’s see what I can do. But for now let’s head back and return the car, my butt hurts from all the sitting in the past days.” He laughed and it lightened the mood up.

 

**в**

 

Later that day Otabek heard his ringtone when he was under the shower after returning from the gym. There was a fifty-fifty chance that it was Yuri calling, or even more because Boris usually send texts. He didn’t even take the time to turn off the shower but ran out of the bathroom to get to his smartphone on the mattress. He ripped the charger cable out brutally and only then recognized Boris’ name on the display. He took the call kind of relieved that it was not an emergency. At least not one that involved the blonde.

“Yes”, he said.

“Erasyl…” The way Boris said his name sounded like a sigh. “Since we had the talk about Sergej earlier… Do you have time tonight for a job? That motherfucker died or something and I’ll spit on his grave, I’m so pissed right now. Aljosha just called to ask me if we could pick up Jessenin later and drive him over to meet up with Orlov for dinner. I’d usually go with Sergej, but, well…” He sighed noisily.

Drops of water fell from Otabek’s hair onto the floor. “Provide me with the information on time and place and I will be there.”

“God bless you, Erasyl”, Boris sounded very relieved. “We need to pick up the Q7 first and be at the hotel half past eight. Aljosha said the reservation at the restaurant is at nine, but it’s not too far from Tverskaya, so we can take our time there. You know we need two people in case of issues, but Maksim really should stay with the kids that late at night and Egor and Iosif live too remote so I hoped you’d come. It’s really a blessing that we have you, Erasyl, you’re such a reliable young fellow.”

“I’ll be there”, he said and after a thank you Boris hung up.

Otabek finished his shower, then shaved and got dressed. He had bought a holster for his MP-443 some time ago so that the gun sat under his left arm pit invisible but easy to reach. He wore a white button down shirt and black necktie, vest and suit. Combing his hair back after applying an amount of styling mousse he watched himself in the broken mirror. The gun really could not be seen but to know it was there made him feel really strange. Powerful and insecure, frightened and confident at the same time. He frowned and reached to grab the polymer handle like he had trained so often in the past days since he had gotten the holster. In the beginning he had had a hard time aiming correctly but now it wasn’t much more effort to pull the gun out than frowning and he did that all the time after all. It happened almost naturally. It was scary to think that maybe at one point he’d need to perform this exact same action and eventually even pull the trigger like he used to do in the shooting range or in matches when he used his P-99 replica. Maybe at one point he’d hurt someone. Maybe even do something worse. The thought made his stomach cramp.

Putting the gun in place again he left his apartment to ride over to the car park to meet up with Boris and get the Audi.

When he arrived Boris was already there, talking to someone Otabek recognized as the driver who had picked up Orlov, Yuri and Alexey Zavgorodniy on Yuri’s birthday. He parked the Ducati and walked over there leaving his helmet with the bike.

“Hey, Erasyl!”, Boris greeted him cheerfully. “We were just talking about you.”

Otabek grinned a little tormented. “Please, not that fairytale thing again”, he pleaded, making Boris and the other driver laugh.

“Yes, exactly that”, Boris said. “You just show up when we need you the most, can’t be a coincidence, right?”

With a low laugh Otabek held his hand out. “Erasyl, nice to meet you.”

“Artjom”, the other man said, taking his hand. “I heard that name before, you’re Kazakh?”

When Otabek nodded Boris seemed confused. “Wait, didn’t you say you’re Korean?”

“I didn’t say that actually”, he explained, one eyebrow rising. “I was in Korea before, but somehow it seemed to have come out the wrong way and I never had the opportunity to correct that.” He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his dress pants. “I’m from Semei originally.”

The two men’s smiles froze on their faces. “Oh”, Boris said. It was impressive how the mere mention of the place could make the air grow colder a few degrees.

“The funny thing is”, Otabek went on, “that Zhenya noticed right away that I’m Kazakh. You know, Maksim’s boy.”

Boris and Artjom seemed very glad that he changed the topic. “Yeah, he’s a smart little guy, isn’t he?” The grin came back to his face.

“Apparently he could tell from my accent”, Otabek explained.

“But”, Artjom interjected, “you don’t have an accent.”

Again Otabek shrugged. “Exactly my thought. I used to talk Russian all my life, but it seems that Zhenya could tell that I’m not Russian anyway. Or Korean.”

“You look Korean to me!”, Boris tried to defend himself. “Tonight you look more like a model for suits though.”

The two older men laughed and Otabek too, not without a little embarrassment though.

“So, shall we get going?”, Boris asked checking his wristwatch and Otabek nodded. 

“Nice to meet you”, Artjom said and shook Otabek’s hand again. 

“My pleasure”, he replied, then they turned to get into the car.

“He’s waiting for Orlov there”, Boris explained as Otabek pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Atrjom behind next to the other Q7. “It’s still time but he’s the type to rather be a little early.” He shot Otabek a glance then focused on setting up the navigation system again. “Just like you.”

Otabek hummed. Dima had said the same thing when they had met for dinner. It seemed like forever since he had been involved with the pale redhead. Today was the 18th of march, so it could only have been three weeks. Following the clear instructions of the navigation’s female voice he drove down the dark streets. He felt a little sorry for how he had treated Dima. It all had been so chaotic back then. So painful. And he had only tried to keep the boy away from this dangerous business. If he had dragged Dima into all this he would have get hurt sooner or later; rather sooner considering how naive and trusting the boy had been. Still, retrospective he should have been not that harsh, not that scary. Maybe he should have avoided getting too close to Dima to begin with. He had been so thoughtless and he felt sorry about that now. And he could not even apologize for how he had broken the student’s heart, acting like a creep. Frowning he decided that he’d make up for it somehow. Maybe not in a way that Dima would ever know but so that his karma was a little more in balance. He’d be very cautious from now on.

They came to a halt in the Ritz-Carlton’s parking lot at 8:24.

“I’ll have a smoke”, Boris said after typing the new destination into the navigation system, turning to get out of the car. “Want one, too?”

“I quit”, Otabek said, earning a perplexed look from Boris but the man remained silent and got out of the Audi.

Jessenin approached the car 14 minutes later. Boris opened the door for him and got back into the passenger seat. 

“I don’t even know the name of the restaurant”, Boris joked as they were driving there, the separating pane between the driver’s cab and the back seat open so that Jessenin wasn’t bored all by himself back there. “It’s in French and the only things I can say in French is  _ baguette _ and  _ mozzarella. _ ”

“You  _ do _ know that  _ mozzarella _ is Italian, don’t you?”, Otabek gave back and Jessenin laughed hoarsely, then coughed.

“It’s the goddamn weather here in Mother Russia”, he said and cleared his throat. “How can people still live here and be happy when the world is full of nice places. take Israel for example, I’m so glad I was forced to move there all those years ago, or I would have never known how wonderful this country is and how loving the people.” The way he spoke about it made Otabek think that he seemed to be an okay guy although his jokes were almost as bad as Boris’. The man kept rambling on about his house and the weather in his new home until they arrived at the restaurant 8 minutes before 9.

Artjom and the other car were not to be seen anywhere so Otabek suggested that they hadn’t arrived yet. It took another few minutes before Otabek recognized the black Audi coming to a halt a few meters from their Q7.

“Go open the door for them, I’ll stay with our guest”, Boris instructed him and Otabek obeyed getting out of the car just as Artjom opened the driver’s door. He smiled at him and gestured towards the passenger side of the back door. While Artjom opened the door behind the driver’s seat Otabek did so on the opposite side. He hadn’t expected that someone accompanied Orlov. He didn’t even recognize who it was as he opened the door. Realization seeped in like snow melting on his skin.

The scene seemed to be right from a fairytale: Like in slow motion a high heeled shoe came into view, fragile and transparent, clear like ice. Ornaments like dew drops and petals decorated a slender, beautiful foot, the tendons and bones prominent under the porcelain white skin and Otabek would have recognized this foot anywhere, anytime. Placed on the asphalt it made way to a leg so long and delicate Otabek thought it would never end. He watched luxurious black fabric covering the pale skin, running down the gorgeous shin like black ink. Otabek held his hand out to help Yuri out of the car but what emerged from the seat was not only Yuri - it was the Russian Fairy. His golden hair braided to crown him like a tiara, the dress he wore so perfect on his lean body it looked like it was made for him and only him to wear. He was stunningly beautiful, so indescribably mesmerizing that Otabek couldn’t look away, could only try and swallow his gasp as Yuri straightened and gave him the tiniest smile. “Thank you”, he murmured, then turned away to join Orlov who had gotten out of the car as well and was waiting for Jessenin to approach him.

Otabek closed the door, still staring at Yuri as the boy circled the car. The sound the glass heels produced on the asphalt made Otabek shiver, his breath catching as Yuri placed one hand on Orlov’s upper arm. The vor wrapped his hand around Yuri’s shoulder protectively as well as possessively and the blonde leaned into the half embrace. It would have hurt to watch the scene at any other time, Otabek realized. But right here and right now he could only look at how Yuri’s spine curved elegantly as he shifted his slender hips, the fabric of the dress accentuating every movement as if it was a piece of art. And it was. Yuri was art. Too beautiful to be human. Perfect. It made Otabek’s heart hurt.

“I complain about the cold in Russia and here comes your beautiful Katyusha dressed like he doesn’t feel the cold at all”, Jessenin said as he came closer. He proceeded to greet Yuri, placing a peck on each of Yuri’s pale cheeks, but unlike anyone else with the exception of Yuri of course Otabek noticed how Jessenin’s hand moved around Yuri in the process grabbing his backside in a hard squeeze. Wrath making Otabek’s insides clench he saw Yuri barely stifling a twitch, his smile twisted for a second. The moment was over after a split second but Otabek had seen it, had noticed Yuri’s discomfort, the way the skinny shoulders had stiffened under the silk cape attached to the dress. It made his heart stop beating.

But there was nothing he could do but witness the three of them turning and walk into the restaurant. 

He stood and watched when all he wanted to do was not to be forced to only stand and watch. He wanted Yuri to turn around. Wanted him to look at him and see that he was there, that he had noticed it and that he was full of hate. But of course Yuri couldn’t do that. He’d have to act like nothing had ever happened. He’d have to play his role as the pretty escort, pretending his ‘father’s’ friend had not just molested him in the embrace of the man who he called his lover and guardian.  _ Daddy’s friend _ who had assaulted him as if his pale skinny body hadn’t endured enough abuse in his short lifespan. 

Otabek wanted to rip his gun from the holster and shoot them. Jessenin. Orlov. Everyone who had ever touched Yuri. Everyone who had ever looked at him losing control over their dirty fingers and their disgusting cocks and their lust. Everyone who had ever treated Yuri without the respect he deserved. His beautiful, gentle, broken little Yuri. White and fragile and precious and scarred. His Yuri.  _ His Yuri _ .

He wanted to punish them. He wanted kill to them all. He wasn’t even frightened of the thought anymore. Nor insecure. No, it was cleansing. Liberating.

(“You’re not John Wick”, Nad says) and it came to his mind as he tried to fight the Red back. Maybe she had been right. He had not been a reckless avenger back then. But maybe he was now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I think Otabek's mental condition worsens from chapter to chapter, but I guess that's understandable considering what a huge amount of bullshit he's witnessing.... I really didn't want the chapter to end here, but I think it's enough heartbreak for one chapter. ^^' And he thought that Jessenin was "an okay guy"...   
> Btw,[on my tumblr](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/166176751794/katyushas-chapter-22-outfit-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3) you can check out Yuri's outfit. Kudos to Maike for helping me a lot with it, finally that scene happened!! ^^


	23. The different kinds of fear and laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, sorry I'm late, a lot of weird stuff happened today, I hope you can forgive me!!  
> Also the chapter is kinda short, but the next will be longer again, promise. also thank you for all your lovely comments that I didn't manage to answer again, I'm a bad person, I know.... But I appreciate them a lot, really!!! So, thank you a lot for staying with me ^^  
> Edit: sorry for weird formatting and typos, I'll fix that tomorrow ^^'

 

Fear had always been a part of Otabek. An important part even. Since he had been a child he had feared to disappoint. Had lived with the fear to fail and come home to the disappointed faces of his mother, his coach, his people. They wouldn't say anything negative, at least not as long as he was a child, but he could see that their smiles were not honest and the "Well done" that accompanied the pat on his shoulder meant "Well but not nearly enough". There was nothing he could do about the fear, so he adopted it and turned it around. He managed to change it into something else and it helped motivating him, made him give all he had to be successful. The fear had become an important part of his character even before he had known what character he would have as he grew up.  
The fear he had gotten used to later couldn't be changed into something good. He had seen Yuri, this small, bitter ray of sunlight in the ballet room and he had changed his life. He had fought hard to one day be equal to this child prodigy, or at least become good enough to make him bother with him at all. Good enough a skater and good enough a person. Of course there was no guarantee that Yuri would not hate him; Yuri seemed to hate every single individual on this planet after all, with the exception of his grandfather at least. So when facing the boy they called an angry kitten Otabek had struggled to fight the fear back. Fear that everything he had worked for would be proven futile once the Icetiger of Russia ripped his guts out. JJ's presence had almost ruined it back then, the blonde so annoyed by JJ that Otabek had not even dared saying something. Retrospective it might have been the best decision to just leave, but on the inside Otabek had fought a battle wether to say something or do something. In the end the fear to completely ruin everything had won and he had run away. He had been embarrassed to give in to his fear. And if he was honest with himself it had been pure luck that he had found Yuri later and somehow making him his friend, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes not even able to see this beautiful sunset.  
The fear he felt now resemled the kind of feeling he had carried around in his chest since he had talked to Khaligaz, his dear Khaligaz pitying him that he had forgotten Yuri. From the moment on he realized that not only he didn't know where Yuri was or if he even was alive but that there was only so little a chance that he'd ever find him again something had settled between his heart and his ribs that made it hard to breathe. He had discerned it as something dark, a black gooey mass, sitting in his chest like a lifeform that had awoken from a long hibernation. Yes, that was right, it wasn't something foreign, it was something that had always been a part of him. Something strangely familiar. Maybe in the end it was the same fear that had always been there but that had evolved into something more mature, more powerful. And in this very moment when he saw the door closing behind Orlov and Jessenin and Katyusha he felt that it rose, its claws pinching through his chest. It almost made him look down on his chest to see if the black spikes were visibly sticking out from his heart.  
Otabek took a deep breath and tried to relax his fists and jaw. The black was still there, this fear inside him.  
He didn't even realize that Boris and Artjom came to stand beside him before Boris spoke. "Are you alright? You look upset."  
Otabek shot him a glance. The concern furrowing the other man's eyes reminded him that he had to keep up his facade. "I'm fine", he replied.  
Boris hummed, obviously not convinced, then took his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. "We'll wait here untill dinner is over", he explained, blowig blue smoke into the cold air. "Then we'll take them home again and hope that's it for today." He sighed. "And then say our prayers that that bastard Sergej finally starts taking his job seriously, because I didn't apply for this." When Otabek didn't say anything Boris frowned. "Honestly, Erasyl, what's wrong? You look like you're about to murder someone..."  
Oh, he was so right, he had no idea. But what were the chances that Otabek could just storm into the restaurant and shoot Jessenin and Orlov, maybe half of the staff as well, then get Yuri out of the place unharmed, eventually killing Boris and Artjom too and escape in one of the cars? The mere thought was ridiculous. He didn't even know if Orlov or Jessenin were armed. He didn't know if any of them could fight. He had only 18 bullets in his Grach and 18 in his reserve magazine. He didn't know if there were more of Orlov's people in the restaurant. He had to have some bodyguards at least. If he owned the entire Ritz-Carlton this restaurant was his for sure, too. Therefore it was very likely that the staff was recruited from clan members as well, so there was a chance that some people in there were dangerous opponents as well at the least. And even if Otabek managed to make it in there, kill everyone and get Yuri out alive as well, he still didn't know if Artjom could fight. Boris wouldn't be much of a problem, Otabek guessed. The man was a bouncer but by now Otabek knew him well enough that he could say for sure that he didn't pose a real threat. Artjom's skills were still unknown though and as the driver Orlov trusted with his family Otabek had to suppose he was not as harmless as he appeared. Boris had mentioned that the man was reliable, even had taken a bullet for Orlov before. So there was hardly a chance that Otabek could go on a rampage and not be dead within a few minutes. And even if he managed to kill everyone and escape in a car with Yuri he had no idea where to go. They would have to leave Moscow, had to leave Russia and hide somewhere safe, in a place where no one knew them. Fleeing the country in one of the cars of a just murdered Russian vor vzakone, a highly respected man whose 'adopted son' had been kidnapped by a crazy nobody who had lost his capability to make reasonable decisions leaving corpses left and right. There was no chance they'd make it. They'd be hunted down by the entire bratva and everyone who felt obliged to Orlov. Everyone would look for them. They'd find them. And then they'd take Yuri away from him again. He couldn't let that happen.  
"I'm just worried", he said eventually. "I wonder if this place is safe."  
Boris shrugged. "I guess so."  
"Yeah", Artjom added. "We have people in there. No reason to be worried actually."  
When Otabek just nodded once, his frown remaining directed towards the restaurant, Boris flicked his cigarette stump away. "I don't know what happened to you, but you don't need to be worried. Really." He placed his hand on Otabek's tense shoulder. "It's okay. Calm down."  
It was hard. No, impossible. Of course he couldn't calm down, but it seemed that at least he was convincing in pretending. He sighed and turned away from the bulding, stuffing his trembling hands into his pockets.  
They decided to wait in the car Boris and Otabek had arrived with, Artjom sitting in the back because he said that it'd be too boring in Orlov's all by himself. Boris tried to light up the mood by telling stories from the Nightshade like that one time when two girls had tried to sell him coke and were so persistent that he had had to act like he was an undercover policeman from the drug squad to get rid of them.  
Otabek sat in the driver's seat and did his best to look relaxed. Actually though he kept looking at the clock in the Audi's dashboard, counting the minutes since Yuri had entered the restaurant. He imagined that this was what hell felt like. He wanted nothing more than go in there and take care of Yuri, ask him if he was alright and prevent anyone from coming too close to him. Especially Jessenin. It seemed ridiculous how Otabek had thought the man was alright earlier that night. Only God knew if he wouldn't try and take advantage of Yuri when Orlov did't look. The thought was scary.  
"By the way", Boris interrupted his thoughts, "Anka was amazed by how you went after Zhenya back then. The boy is so difficult, he usually doesn't warm up to people that fast. We were all pretty impressed, you know."  
Otabek pondered for a moment, not sure of what to say or how to explain himself at first. "It just seemed right", he replied slowly. "He's interesting."  
Boris and Artjom laughed. "That's a nice way to put it", Boris commented, then went on: "It's the boy's birthday next week if I remember correctly, I swear he'd be happy if you came. I'll ask Maksim about it if you want." Suddenly Boris became very serious. "Zhenya doesn't have friends, you know, because he doesn't go to school, so if it doesn't bother you..."  
The thought of the pale boy made Otabek frown. Zhenya had seemed so lonely back there in that dimly lit hallway. A lot like himself. He had had friends back then, Khaligaz and Belek at least, although they had not been available because of his training. But at least he had know they were there. Wether he had stayed in the US or in Canada later, he had known that once he came home to Kazakhstan they'd both be there. Zhenya had nothing like that. He was trapped all by himself. Considering this his situation resembled that of Yuri a lot more. Yuri who had been alone all this time since Yakov had taken him in as a little boy, separated from his grandfather, fighting all by himself for acceptance. For a little bit of recognition. It made him sad to think that Zhenya had to go through all this and through worse, a dark and lonely future laying ahead of him.  
He'd think of something, Otabek decided. Something that would if not help Zhenya long term then at least distract him for some time. If he could make him smile this cute smile again even if just for a second then he'd try. He had managed to make Yuri smile more. Maybe it would work a second time.

в

At half past eleven Boris couldn't stop yawning.  
"They're taking their time today", Artjom who as Orlov's regular driver was used to the restaurant dining procedure mentioned.  
"I heard they're bargaining about Jessenin's share of the uncle's legacy." Boris yawned again. "From what I know they want Orlov to take over the rest as well."  
"That's what I heard, too", Artjom agreed. "I don't even want to think about how much money this is about if he brings Katyusha as a good luck charm..."  
"Oh, come on!", Boris exclaimed, one eyebrow risen. "I bet you know exactly how much it is!"  
Artjom shrugged. "Too much for any of us to wrap our heads around for sure..."  
"Here they come", Boris said, but of course Otabek had noticed already.  
They got out of the car and Artjom bid his farewell with a brief nod, then made his way over to the other Audi.  
"Finally", Boris said under his breath and stretched a little. His spine made some low popping noises. He sighed when the group of three split up unexpectedly, Orlov hugged Jessenin, then placed a kiss on Yuri's lips very gently.  
"I knew something like that would happen", Boris said with another long exhale and it took Otabek another second to realize what Boris meant by that. But when he saw how instead of getting into Orlov's car Yuri accompanied Jessenin in their direction his jaw clenched painfully. It could only mean one thing: Jessenin took him back to the hotel. And the way Yuri wrapped his white fingers around Jessenin's arm gave a hint on what would happen once they were there.  
The wrath tightened his chest until he thought he could never take a single breath again. And then they were there and he had to open the door to the back of the car letting Jessenin in, the filthy old bastard who didn't even spare Otabek a look as he got into the car. He seemed to be drunk, the grin on his face obscene and his cheeks reddened.  
Yuri on the other hand seemed perfectly sober. Not a single hair on his head was out of order, the braid still sitting in place like a crown, his complexion the same flawless porcelain as ever. He was beautiful. Maybe that was what had brought him here in the first place.  
When Otabek held his hand out so he could get into the car, he gave him this tiny smile again and a whisper: "Thank you", just like he had earlier. It wasn't much, but it meant the world to Otabek. Because in a situation when anyone else hadn't even bothered to look at him Yuri took the risk and smiled at him. Thanked him. And Otabek knew that it wasn't because he helped Yuri into the car. It was because he was here. Because he was angry. Because he had promised to be there for Yuri as much as he could and recognized that Otabek kept his promise this time. So in the end it didn't break his heart when Yuri sat too close to Jessenin, or when he started to trace his fingers over the button line of the man's shirt. Because Yuri did behave affectionately towards this stranger, but Otabek knew it was nothig but an act. No matter how intimate or lewd it was, it was all just for show. But that smile wasn't. It had never been.  
That way or the other the drive over to the hotel cost Otabek all his strength. They had closed the separating pane to the back of the car so they would not intrude what was going on back there - or vice versa - but once in a while Yuri's laugh could be heard, the high pitched fake laugh, not the deep honest laugh Otabek had fallen in love with again and again. It was relieving in a way but nevertheless Otabek had a hard time pushing his imagination aside that made him wonder what was going on in the back.  
Boris wasn't a great help distracting him. The man almost fell asleep on his seat. So instead Otabek focused on the traffic.  
When they arrived at the hotel some time later Boris didn't even bother to get out of the car. "I'll leave the work to you tonight. Take it as a sign of my trust in you." He laughed but it became another yawn.  
Not that the task required two people at all. Otabek got out and straightened his clothes, then opened the back door. He heard Yuri laugh just as Jessenin pulled his hand out from the dress that rode high on Yuri's tights by now. Otabek's stomach turned. He held out his hand to assist Yuri and it trembled.  
"Excuse me", he murmured. The feeling of Yuri's fingers in his was strangely comforting. Yuri's fingers were cold. Somehow that calmed Otabek down. But that wasn't all.  
With a swift motion Yuri swung his legs out of the car and in the next moment stumbled so close to Otabek that he could feel Yuri's breath on his lips.  
"Oops, sorry", he giggled, but it was an act too. Because a split second later Otabek found Yuri's hands on his shoulders and his lips so close to his ear that it sent shivers down his spine.  
"Don't worry", he breathed against the skin of Otabek's neck just before distancing himself from Otabek again on shaky legs. He chuckled and then took a step backwards. The look he gave Otabek was serious though, the smile not reaching his eyes.  
"Katyusha", Jessenin exclaimed and waved Otabek's hand away as he held it out to help him too. "Wait for me my beautiful darling. Don't leave me behind to vanish into thin air like I only imgined your tasty lips!" He emerged from the car and Otabek was disgusted. But he stayed composed. He had to. He had to remain calm.  
Jessenin stood and immdiately wrapped an arm around Yuri's bony shoulders, then dragged him away towards the hotel's main entrance. Otabek stared at them until the door slid closed behind them, then got into the driver's seat again and slammed the door shut.  
Boris started, sitting upright in his seat. "Well, good morning to you too, boy", he said sarcastically and sank back into the seat. "And now get me home, I'd rather spend my night with my wife than with you when you're on your period..."

ж

Otabek didn't sleep a single second this night. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw Yuri before them and Jessenin and all the things he might do to the boy. The thing that made it awkward though was that Otabek had never had an interest in coming up with sexual practices out of the ordinary. He had never had an interest in anyone but Yuri after all. So he could not imagine what Jessenin would be able to do to Yuri, what the most perverted act could be or what he could ask from Yuri that would take the blonde to his limits. The mere fact that he could do things to Yuri now, things that Otabek in his innocence wasn't even able to imagine, was a nightmare itself.  
So he just laid on his mattress, on his back, staring up at the ceiling that was illuminated by his lightbulb. Dried driplets of paint threw weird shadows on the patchyly painted ceiling. Forming shapes and patterns that didn't make sense, just like his thoughts didn't make sense. At least until he imagined how he would treat Yuri if he ever got the chance.  
He'd be gentle. Very, very gentle. And respectful. He'd let Yuri make the first step, barely acting, mostly reacting not to hurt or scare Yuri. He'd touch his skin, softly. Caressing Yuri's hands, his forearms, then his upper arms. He'd slowly stroke along his collar bone, then pushing the silky golden strands aside so he could see Yuri's white neck. And then he'd caress the skin there. With his fingertips first, very carefully. Then with his lips. He'd breathe gentle kisses on Yuri's ambrosial neck, almost too soft to sense them. And Yuri would allow it, tilting his head to the side, sighing like he had longed for his touch, for his kisses. He'd kiss Yuri's jaw. The soft spot right beneath his ear right afterwards. Then his chin. Then the corner of his mouth. Finally his lips. And in his imagination Yuri kissed him back, almost unnoticably. His fingers would come rest on Otabek's chest and Otabek's fingers would dance across Yuri's back, holding him soft but close. The light bulb would make Yuri's hair shimmer, his lashes a dark gold, casting heavy shadows on his reddening cheeks. He was beautiful like this. Incredibly gorgeous. And in his imagination Otabek kept kissing him, caressing him: his chest, so white, his ribs and his waist that had looked so slender in the black dress. Otabek touched him everywhere and he took his time for each spot. He treasured every bone, every tiny white-golden hair on Yuri's skin. He treasured the long legs and the bony feet and the black ink under Yuri's skin on the small of his back. He made Yuri sigh in bliss, showing him how much he meant to him, how much he was worth. He treated Yuri with the respect and the love he deserved. And with all of Otabek's passion that had piled up in him over the years. It all belonged to Yuri. All the touches he had saved for him, all the kisses and all the love. And he himself. It all belonged to Yuri.  
Otabek woke up with tears drying on his cheeks. The light was still on and he hadn't even noticed that he had fallen asleep. But the dream clung to his heart for a moment more, this wonderful melancholic dream in which he finally had shown Yuri what he felt for him. And in which Yuri had accepted his love.  
The emotion vanished when he remembered what had woken him: the sound of his phone. When he reached for it and checked the overview on the lock screen his heart skipped a beat.  
Pick me up from the hotel in 30 minutes, take the R8, the message from Yuri's smartphone read, received a minute ago, at 2:47 am. It made Otabek get on his feet in the blink of an eye. The wording sounded urgent. Like something had happened. And it wasn't in the secret chat that automatically deleted messages after 30 seconds. It was in a regular chat. A fact that worried Otabek to no end, because ususally Yuri wasn't that careless.  
He picked up Yuri's car from the car park and arrived in front of the Ritz-Carlton 20 minutes later.


	24. Out there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so, this is actually just the continuation of chapter 23, that I couldn't finish in time and ended with that terrible cliffhanger unintendedly. I'm sorry about that! orz  
> Therefore there's not much happening in this chapter but it's important to clarify some things so I needed it to be this long.  
> Also, and don't be shocked please, I'm not sure if I can upload regularly, because university started again and I had a hard time finishing this chapter today because I even had seminars on saturdays sometimes, so it could happen that I upload a day late sometimes from now on or something, although I'll try to avoid that. Please don't give up on this story, though! I have some nice surprises waiting in the following chapters :D  
> But for now please enjoy and let me know how/if you liked this!

It was freezing cold outside. It would hardly have been worth mentioning if it wasn't to Otabek's benefit. He was tired. Dead tired. It was just that he couldn't allow himself to be, not now. He didn't even allow himself to speculate on what could have happened to Yuri that the blonde wrote him in the middle of the night, and wrote him like that. It hadn't been a text Yuri would usually send him. It sounded so urgent and it choked Otabek.

As soon as he had arrived at the hotel he had texted back.  _ I am here _ . The wording sounded so metaphoric, so utterly meaningful, but he couldn't give the thought much attention. All he could do was try and calm down, not to panic. Getting out of the car helped him keeping his head cool literally and figuratively. 

Only some minutes later - minutes he had spent walking up and down the sidewalk next to the car - he came to think that Yuri might not be able to read his reply. Maybe something had happened to him after sending his request, something horrible that made it impossible for him to check his phone, to leave the hotel. Jessenin could have done anything to him, things that Otabek forbid himself to imagine. But the guy had acted so openly even when Orlov had been around, he wasn't the type to be gentle after groping for sure. Maybe he had-

With a hissed "Fuck" Otabek hurried over to the entrance door. It was hard to appear composed now when on the inside he was so close to a panic attack. He couldn't even say for himself if he managed.

The luxurious lobby of the Ritz-Carlton was empty except the man behind the reception desk who looked up when Otabek entered alongside a gust of cold air. It must look pretty dramatic but Otabek couldn't spare a thought.

"I am here to pick up Mr Jessenin's guest", he growled as he approached the desk and the expression on the receptionist's face became a relaxed one. Maybe he had expected Otabek to attack him or something. Now he gave him a calm smile that looked almost ironic to Otabek considering his roaring emotions.

"Oh, good, please proceed. He told me to send you to the room when he called earlier." He gestured to the elevator on the left. "It's the suite."

Otabek huffed and turned to the elevator. His teeth grit painfully he watched the display showing decreasing numbers when he had pressed the button there. Fitting the rest of what Otabek had seen of the hotel up to now even the sound the elevator made was luxurious: A gentle little  _ ping _ that seemed to make fun of him.

The suite Jessenin was accommodated in had its own elevator button. From the mirrors inside the elevator stared someone back at him he hardly recognized: His skin was gray as ash, his eyes dull. He looked almost as bad as he felt. Avoiding his own miserable reflection he stared at the display, the numbers now rising. The weight of the MP-443 sitting in the holster pressed into his ribs as if to remind him to breathe evenly. Whatever would await him in there he'd stay calm and focused. He'd do what was necessary, whatever it was to keep Yuri safe. The closer the elevator came to the suite the less his hands trembled.

The elevator stopped. Another low ring and the doors slid open quietly. The light sprung to life and revealed a relatively plain space leading to the dark wooden door of the suite itself. Otabek banged his knuckles against the dark wood forcefully. It was meant as a threat and he held his right arm toward the left so that in case he needed it he could pull the gun from the holster immediately. And shoot.

When the door opened the first thing he noticed was the music playing in the background - it sent chills down his spine. Beethoven's symphony number Nine, second movement was the last thing he had awaited. It was unmistakably a message, but Otabek didn't understand it. 

The person who had opened the door was no other than Jessenin himself and in a state of undress that nothing less than disgusted Otabek. His bloated body dressed in nothing but silk boxers gave Otabek a hard time not grimacing. The way he smiled at Otabek, having checked on him through the peephole already without a doubt, could only be described as joyful. That could either mean that nothing bad had happened - or that something terrible had happened. Otabek tensed.

"Ah, you're here to pick up sweet Katyusha, aren't you?" The violins in the background sounded shrill to Otabek's ears. "Come, I'll tell him you're here." He turned and walked away into the suite.

Otabek followed him, maintaining a certain distance. From the look on his face Otabek doubted that Jessenin would fight him, but he didn't want to take a risk and be disarmed because he was too close to avoid it.

Boris had not lied; The suite was indeed all marble and gold, the white and shimmering surfaces almost blinding Otabek. He felt like he didn't belong in this place being dark and gloomy himself, and he was glad once he was out of here again. 

Yuri did fit into the scenery though.

His heart skipped a beat when he spotted the blonde. He was draped over an extravagant seat, white velvet decorated with gold ornaments making it look more like a throne than like anything else. The Russian Fairy's long legs hung over one of the armrests, the seam of his black dress riding so high it showed the creamy white skin of his thighs. His braid was a little disheveled but it looked even more beautiful than before. The expression on his face was a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance, but Otabek could see relief there as well. And he could relate to the feeling; Yuri seemed well, no injuries were visible and he released a breath he had not noticed he had been holding.

"There you are", Yuri said, cocking an eyebrow and got up from the chair with the grace of a cat. He came over, the glass heels clicking on the wooden floor. "I'm tired, take me home."

Otabek huffed a "As you wish" and went to open the door for Yuri.

The blonde fell behind and stood when he was about to pass by Jessenin. "Goodnight", he breathed with a lewd smile and didn't resist when the man eagerly bent forward and placed a kiss on Yuri's lips.

The view made Otabek's skin crawl and he wanted to look away and not see how Jessenin pressed his tongue in Yuri's mouth, but he had to keep an eye on his friend. He couldn't let Jessenin take advantage like earlier tonight when he had touched Yuri making the boy flinch in discomfort. This time he could interfere once he had the slightest feeling that Yuri didn't consent. A word would be enough to remind Jessenin of his presence but he wouldn't hesitate to take more drastic measures if there was an opportunity that required them. But for now he had to keep looking and try to fight back the red in the corners of his eyes.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Otabek, Jessenin backed off and smiled blissfully. "Goodnight my beautiful Katyusha", he said. "Next time let's convince your Daddy to stay the night with us."

Yuri chuckled in his high voice that told Otabek it was an act but seemed to sound appealing enough to anyone else. "Gladly, Uncle Vlad", he gave back with a wink and placed a small peck on Jessenin's mouth, then turned and walked up to Otabek.

As soon as Jessenin couldn't see it anymore his flirtatious smile vanished into an expression that almost made Otabek smirk because it was so familiar in its displeasure. Still, the negative feeling in his chest outweighed the relief by far.

He pressed the elevator button when the door to the suite had fallen shut and the metal doors slid open immediately. He let Yuri get in first, then entered himself. The blonde had pressed the button for the ground level already and the doors drifted shut. The elevator hadn't even started moving yet when Yuri groaned and slumped his shoulders.

"For fuck's sake", he pressed through grit teeth and Otabek watched in confusion as Yuri bent forward, but understood a second later. Yuri plucked the glass shoes from his feet and tossed them on the floor carelessly, one after the other. "That jerk made me wear those fucking shoes all damn night like they're Converse", he moaned and straightened, flexing his feet by tiptoeing and moving the ankles in circling motions first left then right. "If I had known he doesn't even let me undress I would have worn sneakers and my fucking onesie!"

Otabek chuckled lowly. "You own a onesie?"

Yuri shot his a glance. "Of course I do. A white tiger onesie."

Now Otabek couldn't help but grin. "Of course you do..." It faded away quickly though. "Listen, Yuri-"

"No!", the blonde interrupted him with a hiss. He leaned closer, his eyes sparkling dangerously. "Don't call me that", he added in a whisper. Looking around furtively he appeared a little paranoid. "Not here..." 

Otabek hunched his shoulders a little. Yuri was right. It was dangerous to be that thoughtless, even when it seemed secure here. He couldn't know if the elevator had cameras, if someone recorded sound or video footage of what happened in here. He bit his lip and nodded shortly.

"Katyusha", he said and it felt incredibly wrong but the blonde seemed relaxed so he went on: "Are you okay? I was worried when I received your request."

With a tilt of his head Yuri smiled. "Sure, no need to worry." Otabek had a feeling that wasn't the whole story, but he didn't probe. For Yuri the talking was over. Bending over with a groan he picked up his shoes, letting them hang from index and middle finger like bells in a clock tower, swaying lightly.

When the elevator stopped down at the lobby and the doors opened again Yuri just walked out of it bare feet. Otabek followed him frowning. 

“Are you not going to wear those to walk over to the car?”, he asked irritated.

Yuri looked over his shoulder with a pout. “I’ll never wear those uncomfortable pieces of shit ever again, thank you very much. I’d rather walk all the way home on fucking razor blades.” 

A little perplexed Otabek nodded. “As you wish.” It only took a split second for him to come up with something. Throwing a glance over to the receptionist he noticed that the man pretended to be busy with the computer on the counter but he was doubtlessly aware of them. Then again Otabek didn’t give a shit about what the man thought, so he accelerated his steps until he was besides Yuri again. With a swift motion he lifted the blonde up in his arms, earning him a surprised yelp from Yuri.

“What the fuck!”, the blonde gasped and automatically twined his thin arms around Otabek’s shoulders.

“Can’t afford to let you catch a cold because you’re too sore for your shoes”, he said, saving a shrug only because he didn’t want to scare Yuri who clung to him so thoroughly, then went to take his precious freight to the car.

The heels of the Cinderella shoes pressed against his back but he hardly noticed. Feeling Yuri in his arms again, so close, so secure, was incredibly distracting. It felt good, satisfying even. Yuri was way too light. He felt fragile, like he was made of glass as well. But Otabek was glad he could hold Yuri like that, carry him through the door like a bride, out there into the cold that he would protect him against. Out there in the cold where no one else was, only him and Yuri.

“You’re a weirdo”, Yuri chuckled close to his neck. It made Otabek smile. He never wanted to let go of him.

Eventually he did, unlocking the car and placing Yuri on the passenger seat carefully. He wanted to back away but found Yuri’s arms locked around his neck. They made him unable to move, so he remained bent over until a second later Yuri hugged him even closer.

“Thank you”, he whispered, pressing his face into the crook of Otabek’s neck, then let go of him with a laugh. “There are spare shoes in the trunk, could you go fetch them for me? It’s really fucking cold out here.” 

Otabek obeyed. Indeed he found a pair of red sneakers with hook and loop fasteners and he took them over to Yuri, watched him get into the shoes.

“Don’t look at me like that”, the blonde smirked. “I know that looks like shit with the dress.”

This time Otabek shrugged. “It’s kind of cute actually”, he heard his voice say. Yuri looked up at him and he felt his cheeks reddening.

Yuri blushed, too. “Whatever… Can you drive me home now or not?”

Otabek did. The silence between them was meaningful, like they both knew there were things that needed to be said but both were not sure if they were happy to say them.

In the end it took Otabek until he parked the Audi in the car park back at Yuri’s place again and shut the engine to come to his senses. Yuri didn’t move to get out of the car either, like he awaited some sort of interrogation.

“I was worried”, Otabek said with a sigh.

“You said that before”, Yuri stated. It seemed that he hoped to finish the conversation here again, so Otabek hurried to say:

“I know! I know… And you say there’s no need to worry, but…” He sighed again, heavier than before. “I can’t help it. I just can not imagine that this is okay for you. That tonight was okay for you. I just… am worried...”

Yuri frowned. “I understand”, he replied. “But you see, there’s nothing he could have done to me. Nothing that you have to worry about, really. You know I’ve been through shit. Compared to what I have done before, compared to what I was  _ forced _ to do before this was nothing. It must sound abominable to you, but this is what I do now. I’m a professional. I’m used to things and I don’t feel anything when I do my work.”

“Really?”, Otabek objected. “But I saw how he touched you in front of the restaurant. And maybe no one else noticed, but I saw that you didn’t like it.”

Yuri laughed his low, hoarse laugh. “You know me too well. Still-” He shrugged, smiling. “It’s okay. There’s nothing you should wreck your brain about. I’m fine, Otabek.”

He couldn’t believe it. He wanted and try because it would be so much easier, but he just couldn’t.

“It’s not okay”, he murmured, lowering his look onto his hands on his knees. He felt so insecure suddenly. Was he too sensitive? Was he squeamish? “I don’t think you should do tha-”

“But this is what I do!”, Yuri interrupted him suddenly. Looking up Otabek found that somehow his words had made Yuri angry at him. He didn’t see why, he was only so worried after all, but Yuri kept snapping. “It’s my job, this is what I am supposed to do! I’m a prostitute, Otabek! A whore! I live so people can fuck me and make me sit and suck their ugly little dicks all night and don’t let me take those motherfucking shoes off! This is what I am here for, this is my function. If Anatolij send me to his friend’s room I go there. If Vladislav wants me to give head all night that’s what I do. If he wants me to swallow his disgusting cum and smile doing so that’s what I do. If he wants me to eat him out and then kiss me so he can taste himself that’s what I fucking do!” He hunched his shoulders, then in a hushed voice added: “And you shouldn’t fucking worry about me so much. It’s freaking me out. I don’t even know why you do that all the time.”

Otabek looked at him for a moment. The pain he felt inside was nothing compared to the pain in Yuri’s eyes. “Because you mean a lot to me”, he finally said, making Yuri look up at him and bite his lip. “And I still think you should not do that. You don’t live so people can do that to you. You’re not supposed to do that. You shouldn’t.”

“I know...”

The statement held so much finality. Otabek swallowed. But before he could think of something to say or to do Yuri smiled at him apologetically.

“I know. But I have to.” When he reached out to take Otabek’s hand the touch was cold and somehow vague. “And it hurts to see you worry about me so much. It’s the worst to see you suffer and to see you so angry and helpless all the time, but I have to do that. I wish you could accept that, or get used to it, but, you know... “ His thumb stroked over the back of Otabek’s hand. “To be honest it’s kinda nice that you worry so much for me. Maybe that’s selfish but I feel so good when you say that you care about me and that you are there for me and that… that I mean a lot to you. It’s… soothing.” He exhaled shakily, his thumb still running over Otabek’s hand. “And just so you know, you mean a lot to me, too. Always have. That’s why I’m so happy that you are with me although I’d like to kick you in the balls for not making a run while you still can.”

“I’ll stay.”

“I fucking know!” He slapped Otabek’s shoulder with his right hand and laughed. His voice sounding like he was about to cry. “I know you’ll stay, and you know what? I want you to stay, for fuck’s sake. I want you to stay with me and keep an eye on me and worry the fuck about me when Anatolij gives me away like a box of chocolates as a bonus payment for some fucking real estate that he doesn’t even know yet what to do with. I want you to stay and pick me up whenever I text you and look at me with your stupid beautiful eyes and make me feel bad and dirty and disgusting because I did my job. I want you to make me angry at you and at myself and at this entire goddamn world that brought us here and makes me call you Erasyl like the fucking Noble Hero you are. I want you to- I want...” He shook his head. His eyes shimmered with tears. So bright and so green.

“Me too”, he whispered. “I want this. And more.” So much more.

The thumb on Otabek’s skin had stopped and Yuri held him by the hand, just like that. It was a lot for Otabek. But not nearly enough. However it was as much as he would get. He knew it for sure. Yuri was just as scared as he was himself.

“We’ll make it happen”, he said, not specifying what exactly he meant. He didn’t know.

But Yuri nodded. “I’m so sorry”, he whispered, looking at both their hands. “I’m so… tired.”

“It’s okay”, Otabek said with a smile that was meant encouraging but felt so fake that Yuri would have noticed too for sure if he’d look up. “It’s late. You should go upstairs and sleep.”

Yuri nodded slowly, then withdrew his hand. “You’re right.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. If because he was tired or in order to get rid of the tears Otabek couldn’t say. “Those exhausting discussions in the car must stop”, he eventually said, sat straight and yawned, then added: “I’ll see if I can bunk off soon and come over to your place if it’s okay.”

“Please.”

Yuri smiled and raised his hand, cupping Otabek’s cheek gently. “Do me a favor and get some sleep. You look horrible.”

With a blush he nodded. “I see what I can do.”

For a moment Yuri scrutinized him, then pulled his hand away. “Good night, Otabek.”

(It’s how Yuri always ends their skype calls: “Good night, Otabek”, he says in his low, deep voice when the sky over the Kazakh mountains have turned from black to a soft blue already but the stars are still glittering in the distance.)

He watched Yuri getting out of the car and head over to the metal door. The blonde disappeared without a look back. 

He was Katyusha out there. There was only one place where he was still Yuri: with Otabek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not yet! NOT YET! 
> 
>  
> 
> soooon tho *-*
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's MK's awesome fanart](http://paperflower-girl.tumblr.com/post/166496435813/katyusha-in-his-latest-outfit-from) she made months ago! I'm so glad Yuri finally wore this and I am also proud that I managed to have him on his throne too, although it was planned on being in Daddy's office. There's more, so stay tuned <3


	25. He deserves it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry I'm late!! This chapter was hard work, so I hope you understand that it took me some time to finish it. orz
> 
> I do have to put a warning up here, and you should take it seriously: This chapter contains graphic depictions of a decaying body (which is pretty disgusting) and sexual abuse (which is just as disgusting). If you are sensitive and for what reason ever made it until here you should think about skipping the part that starts with Otabek and Boris in the car and just read the short summary in the end note. Thank you and stay safe.

Usually five or six hours of sleep were enough for Otabek. He fell asleep quickly, or at least he used to. When after that timespan he woke up he used to be refreshed and ready to confront his daily life. 

All that had changed though and it added up in this night.

He couldn’t fall asleep. The things Yuri had said haunted him: the description of how Orlov treated him like a toy for anyone to consume. The practices he had been forced to do by someone who was no more than a stranger to him, so intimate and disgusting. The way he had called himself a whore. The gentle caress on the back of Otabek’s hand, whatever it meant. It kept him awake for hours and hours and when he finally fell asleep it haunted his nightmares. He woke up multiple times this night, a weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe, impossible almost. He was afraid to fall asleep again because he felt like he might not wake up again and he couldn’t do that to Yuri. But he was exhausted and no matter how much he struggled he couldn’t keep the fatigue at bay. 

The sleep wasn’t restorative though. When he woke up in the morning, sunlight making the chinks in the material that covered his window shine, he felt worse than the night before. He got up and dizziness made him tumble. He managed to remain on his feet, but once he reached the bathroom to splash the ice cold water from the tab into his face a cough escaped his throat that sounded like one of the old trucks from the Turkish hauling company he shared the place with. It hurt in his chest and all the way up his throat and he decided that perhaps he’d need a little more rest and laid down on his mattress again.

When he woke up again it was dark and he had five texts from Boris.

 

_ 11:43 hey, sergej wont pick up, but Orlovs friend needs a ride to the airport, wanna come? _

 

_ 12:28 I can ask Maksim if your busy _

 

_ 12:52 i guess you are training? _

 

_ 13:44 Maksim will come. drop me a line i’m a little worried _

 

_ 17:09 are u okay? _

 

The last message had arrived about an hour ago and with a groan Otabek replied:  _ I am okay, just caught a cold. I’ll be fine. _

 

Boris replied immediately: 

_ 18:16 let me know if you need something, Anka makes the best borscht. get well soon. _

 

Otabek fell back onto the sheets and sighed. It was really nice of Boris to offer him his wife’s borscht, but of course he wouldn’t take the offer. He wasn’t even hungry. Not that he could go and pick up the food from Boris’ place or even have him deliver it here (which without a doubt the man would do). If he revealed his whereabouts he’d have to move to another place as soon as possible to keep himself secure. That was too much effort now. Everything was too much effort now. Keeping his eyes open was too much effort now… 

It took Otabek two days of rest until he could leave the house again. He still felt like in the first weeks of his rehab, his knees all wobbly and his back hurting. He went to the nearby drug store to pick up medicine and to the convenience store for some food and more tea, then returned home and collapsed on his mattress like he had been outside for a week straight. 

Boris wrote him every day. The man seemed very concerned and Otabek found it touching but a little annoying as well. Certainly Boris had the best intentions, but Otabek hardly had the energy to calm his colleague down. Instead he slept.

On monday Otabek felt better. He was still weak but he could tell that the pills did their job and he was awake for some hours before falling asleep again and that was a good sign he guessed. The problem was that he was bored. Very bored. He had never intended to stay inside so long so of course he didn’t have a TV or books or anything else to make the time pass by faster. He would go out the gym or the shooting range or the airsoft place when he was not working, and only come here to sleep, shower and get dressed for another day. The circumstance that he was more or less trapped in his flat if he wanted to get better as soon as possible made him realize how plain the place was, though. He spent hours staring at the plain walls and the plain ceiling. He stared at his light bulb, simulating what he’d do once the glow wire blew, especially if it was at a time of the day when no shop was open and decided that he’d have to buy a spare one, just in case. He disassembled his gun, and reassembled it. Again and again for hours. In the end he read Yuri’s letters. All of them, again and again until he thought he knew them by heart. He looked at the drawing for hours, the pencil lines etching into his retina like they would be etched into the skin of his arm with black ink one day. The thought made him smile and cry at the same time and he fell asleep again. 

At some point he started to write. The small black book he had bought back then when he had first met Dima was almost empty and he felt guilty about it. So he wrote things down. Everything from when he had first caught sight of Yuri, to the time in Barcelona, the week in Almaty, the weekend in Antalya, and all the time in between when he had missed Yuri so much and had been so happy because Yuri had missed him too. He wrote down his thoughts and his feelings, like a belated diary. Everything that seemed important to him from where he stood now. Yuri’s hair growing longer and longer, his voice a little deeper every time they met. How he’d grown to be as tall as Otabek in the end, how he’d looked at him and what had happened in Otabek’s chest when he did. It was small things mostly that Otabek described, but they meant the world to him.

But when the part came when he had come to Moscow before his birthday it all got blurry. He did remember most of the things, and as he wrote more things came back. He remembered how he had been to Yuri’s place where the boy had lived with his grandfather. He remembered the night when he had stayed over because it was storming outside and Nikolai had not let him drive back to the hotel. Yuri had shared his piroshki with him, his grin mischievous and blissful as he took the first bite in the middle of the night, spreading crumbs all over the bed. He remembered how for the first time after Yuri had visited him back then in Almaty he had shared a bed with Yuri. The boy had felt different when he had snuggled up against Otabek. Taller and more fragile somehow. Softer. Like he had come to accept that he wanted to be close to Otabek. Like he only needed a few more minutes to figure out that they were meant to be.

And then that night. The movie they had seen. Yuri stealing his popcorn with a grin. Yuri falling all silent and motionless. Then Yuri taking his hand between their legs, holding onto him not forcefully but thoroughly. He had been so sure back then. So very sure. 

And then their way home. Yuri had taken his hand again. Yuri had stopped, their hands entwined in Otabek’s pocket, his ears red and his brows furrowed. “Come”, he had said, dragging him to that backstreet. “I need to tell you something”, he had said, stepping a little closer towards Otabek. “Your are a wonderful friend.  The most wonderful, at least from what I can tell. And I was really happy with our friendship, but… I don’t think I can go on like that.  I’m not sure if you noticed it too, but I feel like there is some tension between us that is not normal for friends. I thought it would stop at some point. I really hoped it would disappear, but instead over time it just worsened and now somehow it is too much for me. I can’t bear that anymore, I can’t be silent about that anymore.” 

And then nothing. Nothing but doubt and pain and tears making the paper blur before Otabek’s eyes. He couldn’t remember what had happened after that, or if something had happened at all. It hadn’t mattered then. It didn’t matter now. All that he could think was that Yuri had rejected him. Had rejected his love he had nurtured so long, had thought was requited. He had been an idiot, not noticing how much Yuri suffered under his affection. That he had forced him to take that last step and confront him like that. He was the one who should have noticed. Should have noticed that Yuri in fact had never felt the same for Otabek. It had been friendship, honest, genuine friendship and it made sense that Yuri had invested so much into it because he had said himself that he had never had a friend before. Of course he had acted the way Otabek had shown him. He hadn’t known what was normal for a friendship. He hadn’t known that cuddling and holding hands and sharing a strawberry sundae wasn’t what boys his age did with their friends. He had misinterpreted Otabek’s affection and Otabek had misinterpreted Yuri’s helpless acts as much more than they had been. In the end it was his fault. And he realized as he wrote the words down with trembling hands.

_           It’s my fault. _

 

**е**

 

“Good to see you’re fine again”, Boris said and patted Otabek’s shoulder as he got into the car on wednesday. “We were all a little worried, y’know…”

“Thank you”, Otabek said and buckled the seatbelt. He was indeed fine again although it had taken some time. Once in awhile the back of his throat felt a little raspy but besides that he felt just as good as before. He had even been to the gym this morning, his stamina still a little out of place but nothing he’d not get back to normal in a few days.

“So”, Otabek said as Boris pulled out the parking lot in front of the café where they usually met. “Still no sign of Sergej I guess.”

Boris groaned. “It doesn’t look like anyone cares that he’s gone but I am not going to do his job on top of mine, seriously. I’m 48, I need a little stability in my life. Not to speak of Maksim. The girls are ill, it’s hard.”

“He’s been with you this week?”

Boris nodded. “I can’t have him work double shift with the kids by themselves all the time. Zhenya’s responsible but he’s just a child after all and I couldn’t keep up with the triplets myself if my life depended on it.”

Otabek laughed lowly. “I get your point.”

“So”, Boris said with a shrug, “even if no one else gives a fuck about what that asshole Sergej is doing, I do. You can’t imagine how bad my butt hurts from all that sitting in the fucking car with the goddamn seat heater burning patterns in my ass cheeks. I bet I look like a grilled steak from behind…”

“Spare me the details…” They fell silent for a moment, then Otabek asked: “So, about Zhenya’s birthday...”

“Ah, yeah, I totally forgot to tell you! It’s tomorrow actually, but well, with all of the three girls ill there’s no party or something, what a pity. Anka bakes a cake for the boy that we’ll take there tomorrow but I think that’s it. Too much stress otherwise.”

“I see”, Otabek said, pondering. Maybe he could come up with something nevertheless. He had thought about getting a present for Zhenya, but maybe taking him out somewhere was a better idea. The boy probably was disappointed enough with his birthday ruined by the illness of his sisters. Maybe he’d appreciate the distraction. And there was something on Otabek’s mind already that Zhenya might like.

**т**

Sergej’s flat was in the south of Moscow, in Chertanovo Yuzhnoye District, about an hour from their meeting point. The apartment complex they stopped at was even more run down than the one Otabek had gone to when he had first arrived in Moscow. Otabek wondered why Sergej lived in a place so sordid and remote when he could afford something better for sure with the money he got for driving Yuri. Telling from the amount Otabek had received for the various jobs he had been part of lately, all handed out by Boris who seemed to some kind of overman for the bouncers and therefore responsible for taking care of their payments, the wage of a regular driver should be enough to pay for a decent place to live. 

With a wrinkle of his nose Otabek got out of the car and followed Boris over to the building. The dumpsters pushed against the front wall were overflowing and stank although it was cold outside. Otabek didn't want to imagine how summer was here.

One of the glass double doors’ panes was broken, the other so dirty with a substance that looked like puke that Otabek was glad that Boris went ahead, shoving the door open with his foot. The stairway didn’t differ much from the rest of the house and surrounding area that Otabek had seen so far, all dirty and smelly.

Boris had been here before, he had told Otabek in the car, so he knew where Sergej’s flat was. Climbing up the stairs Otabek somehow got used to the smell a little, although he still tried to avoid taking deep breaths. Once they reached the third floor he also noticed that it was strangely quiet in the house.

“Sounds like not many people live here”, he stated, his voice sounding awkward in the dimly lit hallway.

“I guess so”, Boris gave back. “I mean, I see why. Smell why, too.” He chuckled and headed down the hallway. “Most of the people here don’t want to draw too much attention, I presume. Gang people, junkies and runaway kids from what I’ve seen. Won’t find a honest pretty boy like you around here.” He gestured to one of the old wooden doors. “That’s Sergej’s.”

Otabek felt a shiver run down his spine when Boris knocked on the door harshly. He didn’t even know why, but he had a bad feeling. This place was not good.

After waiting for a moment with no reply Boris knocked again, louder. “Sergej, you bastard, open the fucking door!”, he exclaimed, slamming his fist against the wood fiercely.

Otabek heard a door open behind them and turned around, ready to pull his gun in expectation of an ambush. He frowned when he saw a young girl, not more than 15 years old from her looks, with a baby staring back at him, then she slammed the door on the opposite side of the hallway shut and ran, disappearing around the corner that led to the stairs.

“Asshole”, Boris hissed, obviously referring to Sergej and turned to Otabek. “Ever kicked in a door?”

Otabek shrugged so that Boris stepped aside. He used way too much strength, the door bursting open against the wall inside and bouncing back halfway shut.

Boris whistled. “Workout pays off, boy”, he said, then grimaced. “What the-”

Otabek smelled it too. It was like no smell he had ever experienced before and it made his stomach turn.

“Fucking-”, Boris murmured and went inside, Otabek at his heels.

Sergej’s apartment was small and dark and littered with trash. The stench was breathtaking. It looked like no one could live here and it turned out true after some meters. It also explained the smell.

“Shit”, Boris said. As Otabek followed the man’s gaze he blinked twice until the recognized what had been a human body some days before. The body was on the floor next to a sofa that was littered with paper, half tangled into a woolen blanket on its back. The skin had a weird color, a reddish violet, the veins almost black. Some kind of liquid had leaked from mouth and nose, body fluids most likely, forming a dried puddle on the floor around the head. The mouth looked like it was gaping open, and a substance with a color different from the mixture of blood and body fluids had dried on the skin all over the face and upper chest.

“Looks like someone choked on his vomit”, Boris said, his voice strangely nonchalantly although his expression was one of disgust. “Wouldn’t answer my phone if I looked like that.” He huffed a laugh and nudged the corpse with the tip of his shoe.

Otabek stared at the body for a moment, then turned away. He had never seen a corpse before. It was fascinating, but horrendous at the same time. He hadn’t known Sergej, but even if he had he would not have been able to recognize the man. The thought that this way what awaited all humans sooner or later was bizarre.

“Let’s get out of here”, Boris suggested. “I’ll call the cleaners on the way back.”

“Go ahead”, Otabek said slowly. Something had piqued his interest. 

“Wanna hang out with good old Seryozha a little?” When Otabek didn’t answer he took the two steps over to where Otabek bent over to reach for one of the pieces that had looked like trash at first glance. “What’s wrong? What is that?”

Otabek had picked up one of the countless pieces of paper that littered the flat. He had not realized before but now he saw they were photos. It looked like Sergej had downloaded them from the internet in low to mediocre quality, then printed them out on cheap, thin paper. Otabek took one more, then another one, the breath catching in his throat as he stared at the prints.

“What the fuck”, Boris murmured. He turned around and picked up one of the prints from the sofa. “Here too.”

Otabek stood straight and looked around. The floor, the sofa and the coffee table were covered in the prints. Even the walls had pictures pinned to the old wallpaper with adhesive tape and thumbtacks, hundreds if not thousand of different shots. All different but all showing the same blonde hair, the same white skin, the same green eyes.

“What a creepy bastard”, Boris whispered, letting the print fall back on the sofa.

Otabek couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t even feel anything. He could just stand there and stare at the pictures showing Yuri in the most degrading situations. The pictures must be stills from the videos Yuri had starred in, that much Otabek was sure about. And he had known that Yuri had done ineffable things, had been made ineffable things. However, to see it in printing ink on printer paper was beyond shocking. 

From all the sheets Yuri stared back at him. Yuri in white lace, Yuri in a corset. Wrapped in bondage tape, tied to a chair or dressed in pastel pink silk. Yuri on all fours, Yuri pressed against a wall. Penetrated by a man, two men, more than that. Yuri with cum all over his face, Yuri with tears in his eyes. Bruises on his hips and legs, his lip split, his hair pulled by a big hand. His eyes hazy from drugs or abuse or hopelessness. Yuri with shoulder long hair, Yuri with waist long hair. Beautiful in every single one of those pictures. Beautiful and broken, like a doll that had been treated too rough. Just that a doll didn’t  _ feel _ . Yuri did. Yuri had. And it made Otabek incredibly angry.

In front of him lay Sergej’s body. The remains of a man who had without a doubt felt some kind of pleasure by looking at those pictures. A man who had surrounded himself with screenshots of a boy whose sexual abuse had been recorded on tape for people like him to enjoy, to feel aroused over, to jerk off on. A man who didn’t even deserve to be called  _ man _ at all but too cruel to be an animal.

Otabek realized with poignant clarity that he reached into his jacket. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the MP-443, pulling it out of the holster and unlocking it in one fluid motion that only stopped as the opening pointed at what had been Sergej’s head. He pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed through the smelly apartment, gone as fast as it had come.

The hate didn’t go away. With stern expression Otabek looked down at the corpse that now had a hole in his ugly skull. He wished he had arrived earlier. He wished Sergej had been alive when Otabek had come here. He wished he could have finished him. But he hadn’t known, hadn’t been able. So instead of satisfaction the hate remained inside his chest. 

Lowering his arm he was surprised that he wasn’t shocked. Never before had he used his gun against another human. It had been easy. Too easy, even considering that Sergej had been dead for several days. He had pulled the trigger without a qualm. But it didn’t feel scary. It didn’t feel satisfying.

Boris’ hand on his shoulder made him look up from the hole.

“He deserves it”, Boris said, justifying. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > So, for the people who skipped the last part: Otabek and Boris arrive at Sergej's apartment,  
> > where they find the guy dead for some days already. Looking around Otabek realizes that  
> > what he mistook for trash littering the floors and furniture are in fact stills hundreds of stills of  
> > Yuri in the porn videos he made, printed out and covering the floor and walls. Realizing that  
> > Sergej is in fact a pervert who has a thing for Yuri Otabek shoots Sergej's corpse's head.
> 
> For everyone else: I really, really, REALLY struggled through this chapter. I had planned on having Sergej dead and a pervert for some time now but I didn't expect it to be that graphic tbh. I hope you guys are okay after reading this. I hope I did okay...? It's weird... o.o


	26. Healing

 

His left eyelid twitched when he fell in the driver’s seat. Boris had told him that it was only fair if they took turns driving. He had tried to laugh but it had come out hollow. A moment later the uncomfortable silence sank down on them again like it had never been gone.

Otabek started the car and pulled out of the parking lot like on autopilot. The aftershocks of what they had seen in the apartment weren’t easy to deal with. They clung to the both of them like a second skin. Otabek could only get the smell out of his nose when Boris lit a cigarette and the scent filled the car like incense in a church.

Then he fished his phone out of the pocket and made a call. Otabek listened carefully but couldn’t hear the other voice. It must be the cleaners he had mentioned before.

“It’s Boris. We found Sergej. He’s in his apartment, has been there for some times by the smell of what’s left of him. ...Yes, looks like he choked on his puke. …Just get the place clean by tomorrow so the neighbors don’t call anyone else. He makes the building stink even worse. I’ll tell Aljosha you guys are on the job. Just don’t worry about the bullet, that’s one of ours. … Alright, thanks. Have a nice one.” With a sigh he ended the call and leaned back into the seat.

“So, they’re gonna pick him up tonight?”, Otabek asked.

Boris shrugged. “I guess so. Danya said they’re short on staff but if they want to spare the trouble with some hysteric neighbors they really should get the shit done soon. I wonder why nobody noticed the stench earlier anyway. They’ll prolly set the place on fire and get the insurance money on top of their fee.” He huffed. “Noone’s gonna miss the shit we’ve seen in there.”

Otabek’s grip around the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white under the skin.

Boris tossed the cigarette stump out of the window and lit another one immediately. “I knew he had a thing for Katyusha, but that…” He shook his head.

“You did?” It was hard not to growl.

“Yeah, everyone knew. I mean who doesn’t have a thing for Katyusha? The boy is gorgeous. And it seemed natural that Sergej in particular would come to like him, they spent a lot of time together. Sergej was practically Katyusha’s babysitter. Picking him up from the club and making sure he arrives home unharmed, being there for him whenever the boy calls… Seriously, I have seen the shoes the boy wears for clubbing, it’s a wonder he hasn’t broken his legs yet when he’s wrecked from booze and coke. Imagine having this adorable little kitten relying on you walking over to the front door, all giggly and soft. Hard to resist, right? And Sergej  _ did _ ask for the job.” A sarcastic laugh escaped Boris’ throat. “Now I see why he did that. What a disgusting bastard.”

Otabek remained silent, pondering. Boris was right, it looked like Sergej had applied for the job specifically to be close to Yuri. And it was a convenient position for a stalker like he appeared to have been. Without a doubt he had spent more time together with Yuri than most other people: only the two of them. Yuri most likely more often than not in a certain state of intoxication, vulnerable, trusting, his guards down in the company of a man he deemed a protector. The thought was as scary as it was logic. Sergej had had access to Yuri when the boy was utterly defenseless. Sergej himself had been supposed to be his defense after all. That he had been so obsessed with Yuri - and there was no other word than obsession considering what Sergej had collected in his room - only raised suspicion if or rather to what extent he had tried to take advantage of Yuri. Not that Yuri was per se easy prey, but depending on how he was affected by alcohol or drugs, or even a combination of both, scenarios like from the prints he had just seen made Otabek’s jaw clench. Of course he didn’t know for sure if Sergej had been aggressive enough to cross that line. It was entirely possible though. An idea like from a nightmare.

“Aljosha, it’s Boris”, Otabek heard his colleagues say on the phone again. “Remember when I said that I’d spit on Sergej’s grave if he’s dead? Guess what, that’s today...”

 

**с**

 

_ “You're insane.”  _

Otabek frowned, huffing a laugh. “Yeah, maybe. But I need to know.”

_ “You’re insane for going back there. You don’t do that because you ‘need to know’. You do it because you want to torture yourself. You do it because you feel guilty.” _

“I am.”

_ “You are. This is all your fault, you know that and he knows it too. He went through all this because of you. For you. And you have every right to feel guilty. But don’t come up with those cheap excuses like ‘I need to know’. You don’t. You know more than is good for you. You’re going crazy, right now. And still you want to suffer. Because it’s the only thing that makes you not kill everyone. You want to be in pain.” _

“I owe him that much.”

_ “That’s bullshit. You have to save him, that’s all he needs.” _

“I can’t. He doesn’t want me to.”

Erasyl rolled his eyes.  _ “He does. He just didn’t realize yet. And you need him.” _

“I need him.”

_ “You need him so you can breathe. You need him so your heart can beat. You need him so you can fall asleep and wake up again. That’s what he does for you. He doesn’t see it. But you can show him.” _

“He doesn’t love me like I love him.”

_ “Is that so?” _

“He said that to me back then. That he couldn’t bear it anymore. The way I was close to him. I misunderstood. He never loved me like I love him.”

_ “He loves you enough to accept your feelings. And you are fully aware of it. Your feelings are not the problem.  _ His _ feelings are not the problem. The system is the problem. His new life is the problem. Daddy is the problem.” _

Otabek grit his teeth. “I can’t take that from him. He wants this.”

_ “Only because he doesn’t know what you can give him.” _

“And risk our lives.”

_ “Because it’s so worth living like this!” _ Erasyl chuckled bitterly.  _ “You’re a freak, Otabek. You’re driving yourself insane. You’re losing your fucking mind. And you still continue hurting yourself. You go there and confront yourself with this nightmare that you know will haunt you for the rest of your life.” _

“I need to know.” Otabek put on the helmet, swung his leg over the bike.

_ “You could ask him.” _

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

_ “You mistrust him. You think he might not tell the truth.” _

“I don’t want to hurt him.” He started the engine. The Ducati came to life with a low, beastly growl. He steered it out on the main street, then kicked in the gears higher and higher.

Erasyl’s voice had become low.  _ “You want to hurt yourself. Better you than him, right? You’re some sick bastard. You’re insane.” _

Otabek didn’t answer. There was no point in arguing with the voice in his head anyway. His own voice. He needed to know if his suspicion turned out the truth. Even if it meant to go back there to Sergej’s room and look through the pictures, all of them, one by one. Every single one. It was okay if he lost his mind on the way. He just wanted to know the truth.

Erasyl in his head kept quiet for the rest of the ride. In the end Otabek wasn’t sure if it had ever been there.

On the bike the way over to Chertanovo Yuzhnoye District took not even an hour. Sun was setting invisible behind the gray clouds that only darkened in color as he took the highway south. By the time he arrived at the old building it wasn’t even dark really.

With a little relief Otabek noticed that there was no smoke and no firefighters to be seen. He had been afraid that Danya, the guy who organized the cleanings on behalf of the bratva, and his staff could have arrived early and set the apartment on fire already. Boris had explained that they were short on staff but the possibility that there could be a way Danya and his people could arrive early and destroy any evidence of Sergej’s existence had worried Otabek. In the end he had not even had the time to properly think this through but had hurried to make it in time before everything would be gone.

He parked the bike a little down the street in front of a grocery shop where it wasn’t so likely to be stolen, then with helmet in hand and the arms of his jacket and shirt rolled up to leave the tattoo visible went inside to buy a pack of cigarettes. The man behind the counter seemed to make the connection between his tattoo and the bike and behaved very friendly. That way Otabek could be sure that if his bike was stolen the clerk would inform him about the thieves to stay out of trouble with a man of the well-respected vor. What Otabek only had heard about was proved now: Orlov’s men were treated with utter respect anywhere.

He threw the pack of cigarettes away on the way to the Sergej’s place.

The smell up there made his skin crawl even still some way from the door. To Otabek’s surprise the door to the flat stood open. As he approached he heard some voices talking lively despite the surroundings.

Arriving at the door he found three men in white plastic onesies standing around a big dark blue body bag, smoking.

“If you’re looking for the guy who lived here…”, one of the guys said when he noticed Otabek, “well, he’s still here but I doubt he’ll invite you in.” All three of them barked out laughter. 

Otabek nodded, trying to grin. “I know, I found him earlier. Glad you’re here to spare me the sight a second time.”

“That’s our job”, another one said and nodded to his colleagues who finished their cigarettes and got ready to finish the job by putting rubber gloves on. “We’ll take care of our friend here, so whatever business you have take your time we won’t be back for two or three hours. Better to ‘clean up’ sites at night anyway.” With that they heaved up the corpse and were gone a moment later.

After the door fell shut behind them Otabek went over to open the window for some fresh air, then looked around. Now that the corpse was gone and the lights on the place looked entirely different. The spot where Sergej had died was stained in different disgusting shades and the chaos of prints on the floor and wall had it’s own horror.

Frowning Otabek began what he had come here for.

It had only dawned to him when he had been under the shower, rubbing his skin sore to make the feeling go away that he had not gotten rid off on the way home. The water had been way too hot, leaving his arms and chest dappled in reddish spots. He had looked down at them in weird fascination as the eagle and the diamond on his lower arm changed color. Realization seeped in like the heat in his body, quick and painful: The tattoo had been there. On one of the photos he had seen in Sergej’s flat, one of those he had picked up from the messy coffee table. It had shown Yuri laying on his stomach, from behind, his hair in long messy waves, his legs spread and covered in cum, the see-through pastel pink lingerie hiding nothing. And the Orlov crest sitting there on the small of his back, ugly and dark.

Otabek had steadied himself not to falter, pressing his hand against the shower’s tiles.

Yuri had belonged to Orlov there already. He must have, the tattoo was proof of it. But it contradicted with what he had told Otabek back then, when he had explained how Orlov had taken him in and made him quit doing those videos. How Orlov had supposedly saved him from that.

How could it be? How did this photo exist if Yuri had been over with all this after he had become Orlov’s personal toy. How could Sergej be in the possession of a photo like this? Had Yuri lied? The thought made Otabek want to throw up.

But maybe this wasn’t true. Maybe he had imagined things. Maybe his mind played him a trick. Maybe he hadn’t really seen this picture, his memories blurry once more.

He needed to know.

So here he was, standing right in the middle of the dirty, messy carpet. The cold wind that came through the window made the countless sheets of paper rustle spookily.

The cleaners had pushed the sofa and the coffee table aside to make their work easier. It had messed up the pictures even more, some had fallen onto the dark stains on the floor. likely when the men had carried the body outside. Otabek decided to first check the coffee table.

Although he didn’t look at the photos he took from the table too long it was long enough to make him feel sick. He had only seen a few of the pictures earlier today. To systematically go through them now was torture, just like the voice in his head had said. To some of them Otabek could see the appeal: Yuri was beautiful and not all pictured were tasteless. Some showed the boy dressed in silk and lace posing on sheets as white as his skin. In one he just stood by an antique looking wooden table in black lingerie and high heels, his incredibly long legs breathtaking in the fishnet stockings. Another one had him kneeling on a rich blue carpet in a short but elegant white dress that made him look as innocent as an angel.

Those were the exception though. Otabek came across dozens of disgusting shots like those he had seen earlier already. He piled them up on the right side of the coffee table so he didn’t have to look at any of the pictures twice. It was still terrible. It made him want to shoot all remaining 17 bullets from the Grach’s magazine into Sergej’s abominable head.

The photo he had seen turned out to have fallen from the table. Otabek stared at it for what felt like an eternity. It looked just like he had remembered. The thin pink material of the negligé pushed up to his ribs, the eagle inked into the skin just like Otabek had seen it himself in his apartment when Yuri had changed out of his wet clothes.

He didn’t know what to do. Deep inside he probably had hoped that it wasn’t true. That he had only imagined the photo and the tattoo on Yuri’s back. But here it was, blurry and ripped at the edges, shaking like a leaf between his trembling fingers. Proof that Yuri had lied to him. It hurt so much.

He stood for minutes, fighting the tears back, then made a decision. He’d ask Yuri. There was nothing else he could do. He’d have to ask him and hope that Yuri wouldn’t lie again. Hope that Yuri could trust him this time when only God knew why he had lied at him to begin with. 

He put the photo in his pocket and left the flat behind. He’d gladly set the place on fire himself. It would feel like an expansion of the burning fear he felt inside.

 

**я**

  
  


Yuri couldn’t come. He wrote so only seconds after Otabek had asked for a meeting in the secret chatroom.

_ 91617050829 _ :  _ Sorry, can’t. Busy with Anatolij. The weekend’s packed, I’ll write you soon. _

Perhaps it was a good thing. It gave Otabek time to gradually calm down. 

At first he had paced his room like a bear in a cage, the photo hidden under the suitcase that still sat in the same place since he had moved in here. It had taken him almost an hour after the message had been automatically deleted until he was able to think straight again.

He went to the gym to get out his emotions. He worked out like crazy, knowing from past experience that his body would hurt for days, but once more he didn’t care. He was glad he could focus on something else than Yuri’s cream white skin under lingerie as thin and pink as cherry blossoms. His wavy hair covering his face and shoulders like spilled sunshine. He forced himself into exhaustion, until all he could think of was how weak his knees felt, trying not to collapse.

When he arrived home he asked Boris for Maksim’s phone number. On the way home he had spotted a place where he could take Zhenya for his birthday. Boris replied immediately, not sparing him a few additional messages about how happy he was that Otabek was such a nice person and so on.

Maksim took some time until he answered Otabek’s message but said that he was okay with whatever Otabek had planned and that he was thankful that Otabek took care of his son.

 

**и**

 

The boy deserved a better birthday than the first of April, Otabek decided. It was painfully mean that he had been born blind as if destiny had played him a very, very macabre April’s fool prank. From that moment on the boy’s life and that of his family had not changed for the better. Giving birth to his sisters his mother had died, leaving his father over challenged and helpless with four children, the costs of the funeral and no money to employ a nanny to take care of the kids. Zhenya had spent all his life at home, in the small, old house that his parents had gotten when they had still been so happy and hopeful and excited about their future family. It must have been a pittoresque little house with a pretty little yard, the roof a bright orange and the windows decorated with embroidered curtains.

Now the yard was ragged, the roof sagging and the curtains more gray than white. It looked like it had been abandoned a few weeks ago somehow, empty and lonely and forgotten. 

Otabek parked the bike and secured it, picked up the second helmet, then went to make his way to the front door and ring the bell. There had been a nameplate with a paper inlay but the ink was faded by the years, only some stains hinting that there had been a name once.

From the inside heavy steps were audible. Maksim opened the door with a relieved smile.

“Hey, brother”, he said and stepped aside to let Otabek in.

“Hello”, he replied. “How’s it going?”

“The girls are asleep. Boris and Anka came over this morning, but they didn’t stay long.” Maksim gestured down the hallway that was cramped with children’s shoes, a broomstick, toys, boxes and other rubbish that clearly didn’t belong here but that no one had had the energy to take back to it’s place. “I’m glad you texted me yesterday, I feel so bad for Zhenya, but I just can’t leave the girls alone for too long, yanno.”

“Don’t mention it”, Otabek said and gave Maksim the tiniest mile. “You haven’t told him?”

Maksim grinned and nodded to the door handle at the end of the hallway. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s not a surprise if you yell it through the entire fucking house!”, a voice came from behind the door, muffled by the wood, but unmistakably Zhenya’s.

Maksim frowned, probably about the swearword, but Otabek chuckled and pressed the door open.

Zhenya sat on the carpet in the living room in a white dress shirt and black corduroy trousers, his hair combed to the side in what looked like an attempt to look posh. He was covered in crumbs of the cake that was conveniently placed on the coffee table next to him, one half missing already. He looked annoyed and cute at the same time and Otabek couldn’t help but grin.

“Surprise?”, he said and Zhenya chuckled lowly.

“Not so much. That bike is loud as hell, too.” He got up with impressive certainty and looked somewhat in their direction.

Otabek made sure to make some sounds as he approached the boy. “Happy birthday.” He noticed Zhenya’s smile widening and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Thanks.” A blush showed on his cheeks and ears that peeked out between the thick strands of messy black hair. “You… you want cake? Anka made that. It’s the best.”

“Maybe later”, Otabek replied. “I want to take you out if you like. I came up with something that you might enjoy, but I have to take you away you from the cake.”

Zhenya’s eyes started glowing. “What is it?”

“That’s a surprise.” He withdrew his hand from Zhenya’s shoulder. “So, are you coming or not?”

“Bet your ass!”, Zhenya grinned, earning a “Zhenya, be polite for once”, from Maksim who still stood by the door but smiled saying it.

They had Zhenya exchange his shirt for a sweater and Maksim urged him into a thick red parka and a green scarf that made him look like a strawberry.

“Don’t I need a beanie?”, Zhenya asked irritated.

“Today you’ll need this”, he said. “Hold your hands out.” When the boy did Otabek carefully placed the second helmet into Zhenya’s hands. The boy gasped.

“We’re taking the bike?”

“Exactly.”

With a howl Zhenya jumped excitedly and hurried over to the front door. “Byes, Papa!”, he exclaimed and was out of the house.

“I’ll take good care of him”, Otabek said to Maksim and turned to leave, stopping when Maksim called him back.

“Erasyl, wait.” He stood by the hall stand and looked at Otabek awkwardly for a moment, then smiled a weird smile. “Hey, I just wanted to say… Thank you, okay? Maybe it’s not much for you but… it helps a lot. So, thank you.” There was something glittering in the father’s eyes, but before Otabek could puzzle out if it was only the lighting in the hallway, Zhenya from outdoors crowed: “Erasyl, hurryyy!” Nodding at Maksim he left the house.

It was a little complicated to adjust the straps of the helmet that Otabek had picked up from the rental this morning, because Zhenya was really fidgety, but after some moments they managed and got on the bike. Otabek explained thoroughly that Zhenya had to hold onto him really close not to fall down the bike and the boy agreed eagerly. When Otabek kicked the first gap in and slowly drove onto the street Zhenya clung to his ribs so hard he had trouble breathing.

The boy got used to it after some minutes and let loose a little. Whenever they stopped at a red light though his fingers clenched in Otabek’s jacket and it reminded him of Yuri’s first ride with Otabek a lot. It was like a flashback that brought back the memories and feelings he had experienced in Barcelona. Yuri had been a year older than Zhenya was now, and maybe for the first time ever Otabek realized that Yuri had been way too mature back then. And that he had been way too mature himself. They had grown up so fast, Yuri like it or not, Otabek unwittingly. And now here they were, years later in Moscow, both adults more or less and both having never experienced what it really meant to be a child. He felt Zhenya’s hands fisting his jacket when he stopped the bike in the parking lot. The boy was the same just under different circumstances. He wasn’t allowed to be a child, didn’t allow himself. Otabek could only hope that he could make Zhenya be a 14-year old even for not more than some hours.

He cut the engine and climbed from the Ducati.

Zhenya took the helmet off and smiled blissfully. “I love that bike”, he said and held his hand out for Otabek to help him get on his feet again. He craned his neck when he noticed the unfamiliar surroundings. “Where are we?”

“Surprise”, Otabek murmured. “Can I take your hand?”

Zhenya held his left out and let Otabek lead him to the entrance door, turning his head left and right to hear the voices of the people, the cars in the distance, some birds chirping.

They headed over to the counter and a young girl greeted them smiling. “Do you need rental shoes?”, she asked and when Otabek nodded asked for their shoe size. Zhenya told him his with a confused frown.

The girl handed Otabek their respective sizes and a key for a locker where they could store away the helmets and their shoes. Otabek paid and thanked her politely.

“What is this place?”, Zhenya inquired once again, but Otabek huffed a laugh. “You’ll learn soon enough.

He put the helmet into the locker in the room next door and made Zhenya sit down on the wooden bench in the middle of the room. He could hear the low hum of music coming from the rink’s speakers and couldn’t deny that he got a little excited himself now.

“I’ll change your shoes now”, he announced and squatted down in front of Zhenya.

“What’s that strange sound?”

Otabek followed Zhenya’s look over to the door. Listening closely he could hear it too: the sound of blades gliding over ice.

“It’s the ice”, he said. It sounded longing even to himself.

“What?”

With a sad smile that of course Zhenya couldn’t see he continued unlacing the boy’s shoes and plucking them from his feet. Zhenya wore red socks with black cats on them.

“I guess I better tell you before you loose your patience”, he murmured, putting Zhenya’s boots aside and loosening the ties of the small pair of ice skates. “I came across this place yesterday on my way home. I had thought about what I could get you for your birthday, but when I saw this I thought you might like it.” He put one skate over Zhenya’s small foot and tied the laces carefully. “It’s an ice rink. Where you can skate. I hope you’ll like it.”

“Ice skate?” Zhenya froze for a moment. “Erasyl”, he then said very sternly. “I can not see.”

“I know”, he answered. “But you don’t need to.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Otabek looked up, his fingers stopping their work.

“I can’t even walk out of my house without risking my life”, Zhenya hissed, clearly upset. “How am I supposed to… to what? Ice skate? If this is a joke it’s a really bad one!”

“Zhenya”, Otabek murmured and took the boy’s hands, making him flinch at the unexpected touch. “I’m serious. You can do this. I know it. Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared!” He shook his head, then shrugged. “Or maybe I am scared, so what? I can’t do that! I’m not like you, I’m not like anyone! I can’t do normal things! And it’s mean that you brought me here just to show my what I am not capable of...” He pulled his hands from Otabek’s. “I would have never thought you were that kind of person…”

“Zhenya.” The low sound of skates on ice accompanied his words. “I didn’t bring you here to hurt you. I brought you here so you can see what you can do. Because I know you can. Maybe not right away and not without help, but this is what I’m here for. I want to help you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll show you that there is a way we can make this happen. All you need to do is to trust me.” Zhenya hunched his shoulders, his eyes lowered. “Can you do that? Trust me?”

First Zhenya shrugged, biting his lip. Then he nodded slowly. “I can try.”

Otabek smiled and took the other skate. 

Stepping on the ice was like he woke up from a long, long sleep. The rink wasn’t very crowded and the zamboni hadn’t been out for some time, making it easier for Zhenya’s first time.

Otabek led the boy onto the ice by both hands. “Don’t be scared”, he murmured, Zhenya stiff as a statue. “Relax. I’ll lead you. If you fall I’ll help you up.”

“What if someone runs into me?”

“That won’t happen. Everyone sees you’re a beginner. They’ll pay attention.” That was the reason why Otabek had come up with the idea to start with. Everyone started from scratch on the ice. The first time was always very unfamiliar, no matter if you could see or not. Everyone was insecure. And the other people would notice that it was Zhenya’s first time and keep their distance not to collide with the rookie. Right here and right now Zhenya was like everyone else.

“Try to press one foot against the ice to start skating”, Otabek instructed Zhenya. “Don’t be scared, I’ll hold your hands, okay?”

Zhenya made a bubbling sound that could have been an affirmation or a curse and did as he was told. It was very hesitantly, but his left blade glided over the ice a few hand spans and Zhenya shrieked. “Shitshitshit!”

“That was good already. Now a little harder.”

Despite being intimidated Zhenya tried again, skating a little farther. 

Otabek kept holding his hand, going backwards slowly. “Very good. Now the other foot. you can try to alternate, right, left, right, left. Do you wanna try?”

Zhenya nodded, his fingers tense in Otabek’s. “If you let go of me and I swear to God I’ll curse you and your family for 15 generations”, he hissed with a smirk and pushed away with the left skate.

It turned out that once Zhenya finally got involved with skating he had a lot of fun. After a little more than two hours they skated next to each other, Zhenya holding onto Otabek with one hand only to have him know when the corner came. Of course he fell a few times but he didn’t let it discourage him. He got up but not with the grim determination Otabek had expected. He just enjoyed himself, more than Otabek could have hoped. And it made him happy as well.

When they were exhausted they sat down on one of the benches and Otabek went over to the bar to fetch them two cups of hot cocoa. Sitting down next to Zhenya and handing him one of the paper cups they listened to the other people skating.

“Hey”, Zhenya said after a while. “Sorry for earlier. When I said that I couldn’t… I didn’t want to be mean or something. It’s just that people usually aren’t nice to me. Well, nice, yeah, but not… thoughtful.” He took a sip of his cocoa, smiling a very gentle smile suddenly. “With one exception maybe. But well, it’s not normal for me, so… thanks, okay?”

Otabek looked at the boy who was so much like his father that it made him smile. “You’re welcome”, he said. They sat in silence for a moment, before Otabek dared: “Can I ask you something?”

Zhenya shrugged. “Sure.”

“You said that people are usually not thoughtful with one exception. May I ask who it is? Because I haven’t seen you smile the way you did when you mentioned that one person.”

The blush that exploded on Zhenya’s pale face was as red as his parka. “It’s nothing, really”, he played it down, but the smile came back. “Just someone who… was kinda… okay once. No big deal…”

“If it’s no big deal you can tell me”, Otabek probed with a grin that must be audible for Zhenya too. The boy shrugged but remained silent, so Otabek continued: “Is it someone I know?”

Shrug.

“Someone from the bratva?”

Sip from cocoa.

“Someone your father works with?”

“Oh my God, don’t get the wrong ideas!”, Zhenya blurted out, wiping cocoa from his mouth with the back of his hand. then he hunched his shoulders and sighed. “I don’t know if you know him. I guess everyone does, but you just came here so you prolly haven’t met him. He’s… the vor’s son.”

Otabek frowned. “Katyusha?”

“M-hm…” The smile returned to the boy’s flushed face. “He was at Aljosha’s birthday party. He sat next to me and… and they had buffet and he told me what was on the plates and helped me with it and…” Zhenya sighed the sigh of a hopeless crush. “He… he’s nice. He talked to me like I was… normal. And he was so polite and cute and… that prolly sounds awkward to you, but he smells super, super good. And his voice is so deep and a little raspy and it really suits him. And his hair is super long and silky, he let me touch it, it’s just so pretty. Everyone says he’s the most beautiful person ever and, you know, I believe them because he is so nice, it wouldn’t suit him if he wasn’t beautiful too.”

Otabek smiled. “You like him.” And when Zhenya nodded he added: “You like him a lot.”

“Yeah”, Zhenya sighed. “He’s perfect.”

Zhenya couldn’t see when Otabek nodded.

“Erasyl”, Zhenya mumbled after a while, “do you think that at any time, at any place in the world there’s a chance that unrequited love can be… requited eventually?”

The steam from the cocoa rose from their paper cups slowly.

“I hope so”, he murmured slowly. “I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a good chapter. What do you think? ^^


	27. Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Cilka!! *w*  
> Sorry for being late again, maybe I'll just upload mondays for now? I can't write on sundays, my bf is too distracting, blame him lol

With a noisy squelch Otabek’s heart landed on the Ducati’s tank, bounced of the metal and fell onto the asphalt. The sound sent a shiver down his spine. Trying hard not to let his shock show he steered the bike in front of Maksim’s house and stopped it next to the R8 that was parked neatly alongside the old wooden garden fence. He got off and helped Zhenya doing so, leading the boy to the fence gate by his hand.

“I think you have another guest”, he murmured. If he could hear the irritation in his voice himself, then Zhenya could as well for sure.

The door opened before the boy could say anything and a very feverish looking Cilka appeared, wearing the cutest light green romper suit with little brown bunnies on it.

“Erasyyyyl~”, she sighed and a wide, joyful smile spread across her face.

“Thank you for nothing, you little pest”, Zhenya spat with a mean grin as he climbed up the three steps to the door. “It’s only my birthday, you know. Move.”

“But I sang for you already this morning!”, Cilka complained and looked after her brother who had pushed her aside and entered the hall. He had been way too careful to convince Otabek that he was really pissed and once more witnessing the soft side of the boy made Otabek smile as he followed into the house.

“Yeah”, Zhenya teased, “and it was awful, please never do that again.”

Cilka looked like she was about to burst into tears, so Otabek crouched down next to her to draw her attention. “Are you feeling a little better, princess?”, he murmured and she turned to him and the tears were forgotten.

“Yes”, she answered with a smile and wrapped her little arms around his neck, hugging him close. The soft chuckle close to his ear melted his heart and he lifted the girl up on his arms to take her after her brother who had gotten out of his coat and scarf and proceeded to the living room.

Yuri sat on the sofa in an ugly-cute woolen sweater with a carousel on it and a braid obviously courtesy of Marisya and Dianka next to him, all three of them wrapped in a knit blanket. When Otabek entered he looked up from the story book he had on his lap. He shot Otabek a short glance, bit his lip to prevent a smile and looked to Zhenya.

“Hey Zhenya”, he said and the boy stiffened immediately when he recognized the voice. “Happy birthday.”

“Ka-Katyusha”, he stuttered. His face was as red as it had been in the rink earlier.

“I hope you don’t mind that I dropped by”, Yuri said nonchalantly. “I heard that there’s no party because of those three poor little darlings but I couldn’t just not show up, right?”

The hum that escaped Zhenya sounded a little agonized. “Where’s Papa?”

“Papa went fetch pizza”, Dianka answered with a satisfied smile although she looked just as ill as Cilka.

“He asked me to watch after your sisters for the time being”, Yuri added and Dianka nodded.

“Katyusha wanted to wait for you here.”

“That’s right.” Yuri chuckled lowly. “I’ve been waiting for you here. After all I have a present for you.” He smirked. It was obvious that he knew what he was doing to Zhenya and Otabek smiled a little despite his irritation.

“Tha-that-”, Zhenya’s hands balled into fists and if possible the blush on his face darkened. “That’s really not- you shouldn’t have- I mean-”

“What iwwit, what iwwit?”, Marisya exclaimed, making Yuri laugh.

“Shall I go fetch it? I left it in the car, it’s pretty big.”

The two girls on the sofa cheered, the one on Otabek’s arms hid her face in his neck and fisted the collar of his jacket.

“I can go”, Otabek volunteered. “I still have my jacket on anyway.”

“That’d be nice of you.” Yuri looked at him with a smile that was so pretty that it hurt in Otabek’s chest. “It’s on the passenger seat.”

He let Cilka who pouted a little down and took the car key Yuri had left on the sideboard in the hall, then left the house again.

The air was cold and helped him calm his mind a little. He hadn’t expected to see Yuri again so soon. He wasn’t prepared for this. The photo under his suitcase came to his mind, the pink of the lingerie and the black of the ink on Yuri’s white skin. He shook his head and went over to the Audi. He needed to lock that thought out for now. Try not to wonder why Yuri had lied to him about the videos and the point when he had stopped doing them. He couldn’t think about that now, not when he had no chance to talk to Yuri and find out what had happened. He couldn’t let his pain show and the fear that Yuri might not have been honest with him at other times as well. He told himself to stay composed and remain in control of himself. Or maybe Erasyl told him that, he wasn’t sure.

He took the box from the passenger seat. It was pretty big but surprisingly light, wrapped in paper with a flower pattern. Otabek noticed that the flowers were not only printed on the paper but also punched into it as a relief. He smiled when he realized that it wasn’t a coincidence. Yuri had chosen this specific wrapping paper so that Zhenya would feel the pattern under his fingers. That was what the boy had meant when he had described Yuri as thoughtful. 

He returned to the living room and placed the present on the coffee table. Yuri had managed to make Zhenya sit beside him, a scorching blush sticking to the boy’s usually so pale cheeks.

“Open it!”, Marisya pleaded, the girls seemingly more excited about the present than the birthday boy himself.

“On the table”, Yuri murmured and Zhenya knelt down in front of it and reached out for his present.

Cilka got up from the sofa and went over to Otabek, who crouched down and accepted the girl’s tender arms around his shoulders, wrapping an arm around the tiny figure. He noticed that Yuri shot him an amused glance.

They watched how Zhenya let his fingers run over the edges of the box hesitantly, then pressed his palms onto the paper.

“It’s really big”, he boy said with a low voice, only to be interrupted by Dianka.

“Finally open it, I wanna know what’s inside!”

“Open it!”, Marisya tuned in and Zhenya let out an annoyed breath, but found the spot where the wrapping paper was sealed with adhesive tape. He loosened the tape very carefully and unwrapped the paper to reveal a cardboard box.

“Waaa-u”, Marisya marveled with shining eyes, “is that a-”

“Don’t say it!” Dinaka pressed her small hands on her sister’s mouth. “He has to find out himself!”

With a chuckle Yuri disheveled Dianka’s long black hair a little.

Zhenya had felt along the edges of the box in the meantime and found where he could open the box. Reaching inside hesitantly he seemed to figure out what was inside and stopped in his movement.

“I don’t-”, he murmured, turning his head vaguely in Yuri’s direction. “I mean… I’m…”

“You’re welcome”, Yuri said with an audible smile and Zhenya bit his lower lip but couldn’t avoid the grin that spread on his face. With a hissing inhale he turned back to the box. With more wariness than necessary he pulled the slender neck of an acoustic guitar out of the box. 

“Pwetty!”, Marisya sang from behind the hands Dianka still held over her mouth.

“It’s a Fender Tim Armstrong Hellcat”, Yuri explained as Zhenya placed the red corpus of the instrument on his lap and let his fingers stroke the strings respectfully, producing small sounds. “I had the guy in the shop play some other models for me, but to be honest I fell in love with this one instantly.” 

Otabek could see why. The guitar wasn’t only painted in a very beautiful and brilliant ruby red but also had small cat shaped pearl acrylic inlays marking the frets, the twelfth decorated with two skulls. Very plisetsky. 

“I would’ve bought it for myself”, Yuri added with a shrug. “So I thought you could like it, too.”

“Can you play it?”, Cilka asked, holding onto Otabek tightly when Yuri looked over to them.

“Sadly I can’t”, Yuri answered, then addressed Zhenya again. “That’s why I will talk to your papa about lessons.”

Zhenya inhaled shakily. “Really?”

Again Yuri shrugged. “That’s part of the present.”

Zhenya’s voice was a little shaky when he said: “Thanks. Really.”

The sound of the door opening announced Maksim’s return and the girls all jumped up and ran over to the door to tell their father about the present Katyusha had brought for their brother who kept sitting with the guitar on the floor overwhelmed. Maksim asked Otabek and Yuri if they wanted to stay for dinner, but they both refused.

In the end Zhenya walked Otabek to the door.

“Thank you”, he murmured, the smile on his lips genuine. “That was… pretty certainly the best birthday of my life. Thanks to you and Katyusha that is. I’ll never...” For a moment he stood there, awkwardly, then threw himself at Otabek and hugged him tight. “Thanks, Erasyl”, he murmured, barely audible with his face pressed against Otabek’s chest. “You’re really cool.”

Otabek couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I do my best.”

When he arrived home some time later he found himself on his back on the mattress and still a little touched by the sudden boldness Zhenya had shown. He hadn’t expected the boy to be so straightforward with his feeling of gratitude, but he was glad that he had witnessed it. Everything had turned out fine, just like Otabek had hoped. Even if only for one day Zhenya had experienced that in spite of his disability life could be happy and warm for him. And just as much Otabek had remembered that as well. Zhenya’s laughter at the rink, the feeling and sound of blades on ice, the warmth of Cilka’s tiny cheek against his shoulder, Yuri’s smile - Yuri’s smile! Yuri’s green eyes. The dark gold of his lashes. That wonderful hair in a terrible braid. Long, slender, white hands holding a story book. So gorgeous, despite everything. So pure.

The knock on his door had Otabek alert and on his feet in a split second. He didn’t panic, although the fact that someone was at his door probably should have. As quiet as possible he grabbed his gun, checked the magazine and unlocked it, then went over to the door. After he had attached a slim piece of thick material to the lower end of the door a few weeks ago he could be sure that from the outside the shine of his lamp could not be seen. That way he didn’t have to sit in the dark or fear that someone noticed the small line of light and know that he was at home or even tell from the shadow he cast that he was approaching the door. 

When it knocked again, louder this time, he was already opening the bolts without making a sound. He inhaled slowly. When he started to exhale he tore the door open and pointed the gun at the person in front of it.

Yuri stared at the opening of the Grach with wide eyes. The metal was mere millimeters from his nose and he made a slow step backwards before Otabek pointed the gun to the side. “Fuuuck~”, he said and looked from the gun to Otabek to the gun again. “Nothing like a warm welcome…”

Frowning he secured the gun again. “Are you alone?”

A smirk accompanied the answer. “Of course I am, who do you think I could bring here?”

With a huff Otabek looked around behind Yuri, then nodded and went inside again. He placed the gun back into its case and straightened when Yuri wrapped his arms around him.

“I’m so glad you’re home”, he whispered. His breath tickled on Otabek’s skin.

“What are you doing here?”

Yuri didn’t let go of him. “I wanted to see you. It was so hard to pretend I didn’t know you, even with only the kids around. When all I wanted was to hug you.”

Otabek didn’t hug him back. He kept his arms pressed to his sides, his hands balled into fists. “Why didn’t you text me?”

At that Yuri finally let loose a little, distancing himself from Otabek to look at him with a bewildered expression. “I didn’t want to waste time. I wanted to see you.” When Otabek’s jaw clenched, he rose one hand from his shoulders and placed the cold tip of his index finger on the scar on Otabek’s jaw. “What’s wrong?”

His voice was full of worry and Otabek wished he could pretend that nothing was wrong. He wished that he could lean forward and kiss Yuri and pretend the blonde hadn’t lied to him. He wished he could hold onto that feeling Yuri’s smile caused in his heart. But he wasn’t that strong. Doubt seeped from his ribs right into his insides and he shook off Yuri’s hand and turned away.

There was nothing to look at but the suitcase that hid what hurt him so much.

“We went to see Sergej”, he began, staring at the black material of the cover of the suitcase. “He… didn’t expect guests.” When he looked back at Yuri he noticed the helpless expression on the boy’s face. “I found something there.”

Yuri watched as he bent over to take the photo out from under the case and turned around to hand it to him.

“You said you stopped when Orlov took care of you”, he whispered, his voice giving in to the tension. “You lied.”

First Yuri looked angry but then he took the picture from Otabek’s scarily steady fingers. The green eyes widened in shock when he looked down on the paper.

“Those were everywhere”, Otabek said, his voice back but strained. “All over the place. From different videos apparently, some old, some new. He printed them out and surrounded himself with them. With  _ you _ . Doing all kinds of things. And then I found this. You with the tattoo. Care to explain?”

Yuri stared at the photo, then his eyes flashed up to Otabek, filling with tears. “I don’t know.” A whisper.

Otabek stared back at him.

“I don’t know”, Yuri said again, looked back at the picture.

It hurt to see him like that although Otabek didn’t know exactly why he was crying. Was it guilt? Was it shame?

“Please, tell me the truth.”

Yuri bit his lip, then shook his head, tears falling from his lashes.

Otabek grit his teeth. “It’s no use to keep lying to me. Tell me the truth, Yuri... Katyusha.”

“I don’t know!”, Yuri yelled and hid his face behind his hands, clutching the photo between his fingers hard. “I didn’t lie to you!” Sinking to his knees. “ _ I didn’t lie to you! _ And I’m  _ not _ Katyusha!”

It was cruel and Otabek was well aware of it. But he couldn’t stand the lies anymore. Too many people had hidden the truth from him too many times. That Yuri was among them hurt beyond all measure.

“Then how comes Sergej had this photo of you?”, he hissed.

Yuri looked up at him again. His eyes were full of wrath, piercing and cold when he screamed at him: “He fucks me!” With a galvanic motion he threw the photo on the floor between them. “He fucks me all the time! He drives me home and takes me upstairs and then he fucks me. And you know what? I let him do it! He’s ugly and rough and I’m drunk and high and I hate it every single time, but I let him do it because I’m so tired of being used! Because when he says he loves me he sounds honest. When he says that he’ll make me happy if I don’t tell Daddy I want to believe him. When I pass out on the bed and wake up to him dressing me up he’s so gentle. He holds my hair when I throw up from too much booze and he holds me when I cry because I feel so lonely, so fucking lonely because no one wants me! Because no one is there for me, but he is, and I don’t like him, but… He is there! He is there when you are not!” Yuri’s voice had become hysteric but all of a sudden he fell silent and just stared at Otabek.

Otabek who bit his lip and didn’t wipe his tears away, because it hurt so much that he felt he could never stop crying. He looked down at Yuri, his beautiful Yuri and the vision blurred before his eyes but as soon as the tears fell from his eyes it was clear again and Yuri was still there and Otabek had still hurt him.

“Is that true?” His voice didn’t sound like his voice at all.

Yuri nodded. “I let him”, he said, his voice low and insecure. “I didn’t know he takes photos. But this isn’t from one of the videos. I stopped when Daddy found me. I  _ didn’t _ lie to you.”

He knew he had to apologize, but his voice didn’t seem to work. He stood there and stared at Yuri who sat back on his heels and lowered his eyes. It was cold in here. Otabek had turned on the heater when he had arrived home but it hadn’t been enough time to heat up the place. Otabek felt like frozen in place.

“I’m disgusting”, Yuri murmured after a while, the words ripping Otabek’s heart out. “I know that. I’m disgusting and dirty and despicable. I’m not worth the clothes I wear, nor the food I eat, nor the air I breathe. And I’ve been aware of that every second of my life. I don’t deserve love. I never have. I can only function as long as I’m needed. I can only be disposable. That’s what I’m good for. I’m just a frozen cold piece of shit.” He balled his hands into fists. His expression was bitter. He looked up to Otabek and his eyes showed that he was serious. That he was expressing what he felt inside. The same look he had seen on little Yuri Plisetsky’s face all those years back. Those eyes that he had called the eyes of a soldier.

“But I’m  _ not _ a liar.”

There it was. Like a thread that was attached to his heart and that Yuri could play with without even noticing, making his soul shift and twirl in the process until he couldn’t think straight. Like he was grabbing his insides with both hands, reaching through the hole where his heart had been. Touching him on the inside, painfully and honestly. All this wrath and pain and fear couldn’t make Yuri stop. He’d fight. No matter how shattered he was. No matter how hurt. He’d bite, like a wounded tiger, not letting go of his attacker until they both bled out.

He had Yuri in his arms without noticing that he had moved at all. His face pressed against the blonde hair he couldn’t say for sure if he held Yuri to comfort him or if he needed the comfort himself. Both probably.

“You’re not”, he said, tears wetting Yuri’s sweater. “I’m sorry.”

The weight of Yuri’s hands on Otabek’s shoulderblades was light, almost imperceptible. At the same time it was as reassuring as a mere gesture could be.

“I know you are”, Yuri whispered, holding him so softly while Otabek was crying. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. You never want to hurt anybody.”

“I do”, he whispered. “I want to hurt them. Everyone who ever touched you. Everyone who ever looked at you the wrong way. Even if it’s the whole world. I want to punish them, all of them.”

_ “Myself” _ , Erasyl said in his head and maybe it wasn’t even Erasyl this time.

The nod of Yuri’s head made his awry braid rub against Otabek’s temple. “Is that the reason you stay here?”

“Yes, that’s the reason”, Otabek said. The feeling of the soft hands on his back was divine.  _ “No,  _ you _ ’re the reason” _ , Erasyl said in his head. 

“Is that why you take in all this pain and all the fear?”

“Yes, that’s why”, Otabek said. He inhaled Yuri’s scent deeply.  _ “No,  _ you _ ’re why _ ”, Erasyl said in his head. 

“Because you want what? Justice?”

“Yes, I want justice”, Otabek said.  _ “No, I want  _ you _ ” _ , Erasyl screamed in his head.

Gentle fingers caressed his hair. “Is that what you want the most in the world?”

“Yes”, Otabek said.  _ “You dirty liar” _ , Erasyl sobbed in his head.

Yuri’s warmth was comforting. It was nice. He closed his eyes and listened to the boy’s calm heartbeat. He could sit here forever. That would be so nice. Stop the time and sit here with Yuri for the rest of his life, or more even: Until the world ended. Until seconds became minutes and heartbeats became eternity. He felt guilty, because he had hurt Yuri. He felt guilty because he couldn’t be honest. But Yuri was here and that was all that mattered. As long as Yuri was here he could be happy. As long as Yuri stayed with him, the sadness was not there. The sadness he usually felt, usually, when Yuri was not around. 

“Usually”, he said, his voice low and calm and Yuri still caressed his hair. His fingers ran through the dark strands, cold white fingertips unwittingly brushing against the scar that was hidden there, a witness of when he had almost died. “Usually I’m sad”, he confessed, slowly. “When you are not here. It’s hard to describe. I’m just very, very sad. And angry.” He sighed. “There’s something. In my chest. Something black. It’s always been there, since I can remember. I… I don’t remember all of it, still. And there’s something red. Behind my eyes. It makes me lose control. It makes me want to kill everyone. It makes me want to pull my gun and shoot Jessenin. Execute him. Execute Sergej. Execute Orlov. Kill them all because they…” He pressed his forehead against Yuri’s jaw. “They had no right. You  _ do _ deserve love. And all you get is pain. I want to make them pay.” A sob made his throat cramp. “It’s not fair.”

“That’s how this world is”, Yuri whispered, his breath soft and warm on Otabek’s forehead.

“It’s my fault”, Otabek concluded, squinting his eyes shut. It hurt so, so much. “I’m sorry.”

Yuri caressed his hair, keeping silent for a moment. “I know you are”, he eventually said. “And it’s okay. I’m here with you. I promised you I’d be. I promised I’d help you when you need me. So don’t be scared. We’ll find a way to make things better. We’ll make those feelings go away, the anger and the sadness. I’ll help you.”

Otabek sat up. His eyes hurt from crying, but he wanted to look at Yuri who smiled at him.

“You know what I think, Otabek? I think you are way more fragile than you want to admit. I think you take much more pain than you can bear. I didn’t see it before. But you suffer so much, so much that it makes you sick. All this”, he made a gesture that included the entire room, “this place and Moscow and me… It makes you sick. It makes you sad.”

“I can’t leave”, Otabek whispered, shocked. Did Yuri want to send him away again? Hadn’t he made his point clear? He would never leave, not without Yuri by his side.

“You don’t have to.” Yuri leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I’ll keep you with me. If that’s what makes the sadness go away, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll stay.”

As appealing as it was, it still made Otabek shake his head. “You can’t”, he replied, wiping his tears from his cheeks with the back of his hands. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Then what?” Yuri looked disappointed. “Am I supposed to leave you behind and watch you break beyond repair? If it’s not too late already? You can’t ask that from me, Otabek.”

“I’m not broken”, he insisted, looking down on Yuri’s hands that the boy had folded on his knees.

“Oh yes, you are. And the sooner you see that the sooner we can try to find a way to make it stop.” A finger under Otabek’s chin made him look up to those eyes he loved so much. “I can’t see you suffer so much. You are my friend. You mean so much to me, more than you can even guess. So if we can’t come up with a better idea, that’s what I’ll do: I’ll stay, even if it’s only for tonight.”

“Yuri”, he said, frowning. “You can’t do that. Not… not just like that. Everyone will be looking for you. They’ll find the car, they’ll come here and take you away from me.”

“Not like that?”, Yuri echoed. “How then?” He leaned forward again, his stare intense. “How?”

With a shudder Otabek looked away. “We… we’ll have to plan that. You can’t take your car. It’s too easy to recognize. They have seen us together. We have to make it less… salient.” For a moment he pondered, then he had an idea. “You need a different car.”

“I can take one of the Audis”, Yuri suggested but Otabek shook his head.

“No, like, an entirely different car. One that no one would think could be used by you. I mean something like Boris’ old Lada.” He looked back at Yuri, suddenly eager with the idea. “We’ll hide it, in a single garage somewhere close to your apartment. You said you have a secret exit, one that has no surveillance cameras. You can sneak out there and take the car to come here. There’s so many cars and trucks going in and out because of the hauling company, nobody will suspect anything if there’s one more or less. You could come here anytime. I can give you a key, or hide it somewhere where only the two of us know where it is. You can come here and…” He stopped, admiring the smile that Yuri’s lips had formed.

“...be with you”, Yuri finished. There was a light blush on his nose tip. The one that Otabek loved.

“Be with me.” He felt he was smiling too.

“That’s all I wish for.” He chuckled and wrestled Otabek onto his back in a rough, boyish embrace. He came lying half on top of Otabek, his head placed on Otabek’s chest, right where his heart was. “I want to stay tonight”, he said. His arms were wrapped around Otabek’s shoulders.

“You can’t.”

“I know that. But I don’t want you to be so sad. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy.” He pressed up on his elbows. He was way too close. “You were so relaxed earlier, at Zhenya’s. You looked at peace. You were so calm and… gentle.” Yuri looked him in the eyes and blushed. “You have the prettiest smile. I’d love to see it again.”

Otabek stared back at Yuri. The blonde was so close. His eyes sparkling, his lips so pink. Dianka’s unskilled braid hung from his shoulder and it would be so easy, so,  _ so _ easy to-

(“I let him do it because I’m so tired of being used!”, Yuri screams, his eyes overflowing with tears and every single one hurts like a gunshot in Otabek’s heart. The photo lies face down on the floor between them and Otabek knows he has hurt Yuri more than anyone has ever hurt him before. He wants to turn back time and not hear it, wants to turn back time even further and make  _ everything _ undone. But he can’t. He can only stand there and realize that he is just as guilty as anyone else who drove Yuri this far. It can never happen again. No one can ever hurt Yuri again.  _ He _ can never hurt Yuri ever again.)

“I know a place”, he breathed. Then swallowed. Then realized the idea was brilliant. “I know a place!”, he exclaimed and pushed Yuri away, jumped on his feet, took Yuri by his hand who gasped in surprise.

“Otabek!”, he laughed, holding him back, eager for an explanation.

Otabek looked back at him, the slightest smile showing on his face.  “What will it be?”, he asked. “Coming or not?”

When Yuri nodded excitedly, his eyes sparkling with delight he knew he could fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such an idiot, seriously!! This chapter's subtitle is "Otabek just doesn't get it". Maybe next chapter . . . . . . . *wriggles eyebrows*


	28. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'm sorry I skipped last week's update but I was super super ill and couldn't write a word. This chapter is pretty important though and I didn't want to ruin it so I took time for it. I hope you like it. I really, really hope you like it. ^^

Otabek didn’t even feel the cold. He knew it was there, but it couldn’t affect him. Not now, not here; not with Yuri’s arms around his waist. Not with the lean body pressed against his, the wind tugging on his sleeves. It felt like a memory. This time however it was not one of those the injuries had buried in the darkness. This time it was one of the memories he had always been aware of. 

History repeated itself. He had been here, on a bike, Yuri clinging onto him. It was like a repetition of that time in Barcelona when he had saved Yuri. Only now he was saving them both.

The Russian night was dark and clear, more quiet than he had expected. 

“Where are you taking me?”, Yuri asked when they stopped. He could have been doubtful. He could have been scared. But his voice was low and calm and Otabek knew that for some reason Yuri still trusted him. The way he looked at him when Otabek struggled inside, the way his eyes were so green and vivid he looked so at peace, so optimistic that Otabek just bit his lip and held out his hand.

Yuri took it. His smile was fond.

It was late, long after nightfall, long after the doors had been locked. Otabek didn’t know for sure what time it was. 10 pm or midnight or 2 am, it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that they were here and that they were the only persons far and near.

He pulled the gun from the holster and aimed at the lock of the door. The crack of the shot was loud but over so fast that after a second Otabek wasn’t sure anymore that there had ever been a sound. He turned around and Yuri took his hand to let him lead him inside. He felt invincible. 

“I’ve been here before”, Yuri murmured. His voice echoed from the high ceiling. The ice was smooth and dark, like a puddle of shadows waiting for them to go under in it. “It feels like it was in another life.”

Otabek found the switch for the lamp in the lobby. With the door open the light from the neon tube seeped over to the rink, illuminating the hall just enough to see but not enough to break the spell. He took skates for them from the shelf, then watched Yuri tying the laces slowly, thoroughly. It was a ritual.

Skating with Zhenya had felt like coming home. But watching Yuri placing the first blade on the ice was like his heart got ripped out of his chest.

The blonde froze, then turned to where Otabek stood. “I’m scared”, he murmured. His hand on the board showed no sign of tension.

Otabek stepped closer. With his right hand he reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers over the back of Yuri’s hand. Looking back up to the shimmer in Yuri’s eyes he shook his head. “You don’t need to be scared ever again. I’m here with you.”

And then the sound of metal on ice. 

No sound could ever be more wonderful to Otabek’s ears. Nothing could ever be more perfect than the singing of Yuri’s blades against the ice, hesitant first, then faster, daring, confident. A sonata changing in pace, in rhythm, in key; introduction, exposition, development and then more of that. A transformation. Accelerating he plucked the tie from his braid, the golden strands loosening in a whirlwind of sunrays in the twilight. Katyusha became Yuri. Yuri skating in wide curves, forwards, backwards, faster, faster. Like a storm that had been locked away and was now let free for the first time in what felt like forever. 

The slender hands rose in the air, the back bent. A look back and then - a triple salchow. Overrotating one of the blades dug into the frozen mirror and sent Yuri crashing down on the ice. His hair spilled on the shimmering surface like golden ink from a broken phial. Otabek’s breath caught in his throat, then without even noticing he had skated over to Yuri, kneeling on the ice next to him.

Yuri looked up at him, lying on his back, silent for a moment. But after the blink of an eye laughter spilled from his lips, his low, hoarse laughter and he rose his hand to cup Otabek’s cheek. His smile was warm and beautiful and Otabek couldn’t move.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

There was a blush on Yuri’s cheeks. His lips looked full and pink even in the almost dark. His eyes were as green as tourmaline and Otabek wasn’t sure if he had ever before noticed the extent of Yuri’s beauty.

The lump in the back of his throat didn’t disappear when he swallowed. His knees were frozen to the ice, his arms and shoulders stiff and numb. With the clarity of a lightning bolt he knew that he was making the most terrible mistake of his life. He knew and still, there was nothing he could do about it. He stared at Yuri as the smile on the boy’s lips died and his golden brows crinkled and his hand wasn’t on Otabek’s skin anymore. He sat back and watched Yuri sitting up, his expression hurt. 

Yuri got on his feet and skated away a meter or two, then stood.

Otabek got up as well and looked at his friend, not daring to approach him. He had distanced himself from Otabek. Somehow it felt like more than just a few steps of ice between them. It was like suddenly an entire fate separated them. 

After a long moment of silence as solid as ice he could hear Yuri speak.

“Is this a dream? Is this reality?”, he whispered and it sounded spooky in the silence of the rink. “I don’t know what’s real anymore. Things that I knew were true aren’t anymore. Things I was sure of. Things I relied on. Everything is so blurred. Nothing matters anymore. I can’t make things true by believing in them. I need to accept. I need to handle things no matter if they feel true or not. There’s nothing I can change about that. My emotions can’t change things. My dreams can’t change things. What I wish for, what I hope for, it’s all worthless. I treasured this part in me, this innocence. But it seems I have lost that without even noticing. I’m an adult now. There’s no point in dreaming anymore. Dreams don’t come true. Fairytales are a lie.” He turned and looked at Otabek with the eyes of a soldier. “I never heard your answer.” He tucked a wavy lock behind his ear and looked at him. 

He was waiting for an answer but Otabek didn’t know the question. Those green eyes pierced his heart - why didn’t it hurt? He felt empty. It was like everything depended on this answer Yuri was asking for. Everything was about to fall and crash beyond repair. What he’d say would tip the both of them over the edge, in one direction or the other. But there was nothing he could think of. So he balled his hands into fists and said: “I don’t know.”

And that was the reason. He realized it right that moment.  _ He didn’t know _ . He had never known. Yuri was here but at the same time there was so much of him missing that Otabek couldn’t make sense of it. It wasn’t just a few steps of ice between them. It was three and a half years. Three and a half years in which Yuri had changed but Otabek hadn’t. Of course he could not understand. Of course he did not know. He hadn’t had time to think. He hadn’t had time to change. No matter how fast he had run in the past few months, he could not catch up and the world hadn’t waited for him either. He was like his notebook: hastily scribbled fragments of his life, but there were so many blank pages, pages he couldn’t fill himself. He needed help. He needed the questions before he could even think about the answer.

“Yuri”, he sighed and tried to relax his hands. “I want to tell you. I want to give you all the answers you need to hear. But it’s more complicated than you probably realize.” He pushed one foot against the ice and slid closer to Yuri, ironically effortless when on the inside everything convulsed. It was so hard to form the thoughts so that he himself could kind of understand them, and much harder to make words somehow express what he thought they meant. 

“Yuri, I’m broken”, he eventually confessed. “You saw it happen. You were there. You were with me when they ruined me and I don’t know how much you remember but I… I don’t. I’m failing. I don’t know how bad it is, I just know it’s worse than I want to admit. It’s hard to explain.” He shrugged and looked away from the anger in Yuri’s eyes. “It’s just that sometimes I feel like I’m missing parts. Like a… like a machine that somehow functions but there are moments when things just don’t work. Because the parts that make that process run are just not there. They took that from me. They damaged me. And I still am here but I’m not… complete. Not like everyone else is.” He looked up apologetically. “Not like you are. I’m my own flawed diary. The time between my 20th birthday and when I woke up was never written down. Some pages from before were ripped out or are illegible. Important pages. And the past months are chaos. My thoughts are. My brain is. My life is. I don’t remember everything. And I can never be sure if what I remember really happened like I think it did. I just… don’t know a lot of things. And I don’t realize what’s missing until you ask me. Ask me about an answer I never gave you and that I can never give you because I don’t know it. Because I can not remember. And I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Yuri, I really am. I‘m aware you need to know. I know you deserve it. But I can’t do anything about it. I can not give you the answer you are waiting for. It’s just… not there.”

He looked at Yuri. There was something in the boy’s eyes, many different things actually. Things that looked like anger and disbelief, annoyance and hope. A mixture of emotions. It was those emotions who made his voice shaky when he asked: “You don’t remember?” Maybe it wasn’t even a question, but more of a summary of the dilemma.

Otabek nodded. He was embarrassed. After all he had appeared so strong, so secure. He was nothing of that in the end. He was just the same old Otabek Altin and not even entirely. A mere 85% perhaps. “When you demand an answer”, he murmured, “I don’t know what you are referring to.”

Yuri’s forehead twitched into a frown, then it was gone again. “You’re fucking kidding me…” He sighed when Otabek didn’t know how to answer and just shrugged, biting his lip. There was no point denying it. It made Yuri comb thin fingers through his hair and moan in desperation that Otabek didn’t understand. “The day before your birthday”, Yuri explained and wrapped his arms around his waist. “When we went to the cinema. Do you not remember that?”

“I do. Some of it at least.” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t remember most of the attack though.”

“And before that?” The tone of Yuri’s voice became pressing. “Before they came. After we left the theater. Do you remember?”

It was blurry, but it was there an a way. “We… we went home”, he tried, squinting his eyes as if it helped him to focus. He had remembered that, somewhen. That street, when Dima had come to look for him.  _ That _ street. “We went home and you wanted to talk. You took my hand and…” He looked down at the glittering tips of Yuri’s skates. “You took me there and you wanted to talk, because… there was… something…” He stopped. There was no way he could tell what had been there, between them. He knew what he had felt himself, it was still the same basically. He had been in love with Yuri. He had been in love with Yuri for a long, long time. But the way his friend had dragged him into that backstreet. The way he had stepped forward, a little too close. So close,  _ so close _ . ( “ I can’t bear that anymore, I can’t be silent about that anymore.” He looks up at Otabek.) He sighed, shuddered. “You wanted to talk. About us. About how you couldn’t stand it. You wanted to tell me the truth.”

Right. Yuri had rejected him. He remembered. But did he?

Within a second Yuri was close again, just like back then. His hands gripped the collar of Otabek’s jacket. “What did I say?”, he hissed and it scared Otabek. The memory scared him and the reality scared him. “Otabek, what did I say?!”

“I don’t remember.” It wasn’t more than a whisper, but it solved everything. 

With three of four seconds delay Yuri let go of him, took a step backwards. “I see”, he said, his voice calm and low. And relieved? Was that relief? “You don’t remember the one moment that means everything.” He chuckled lowly. The sound was so misplaced it sent chills down Otabek’s spine. Then Yuri sighed and shook his head slowly, still smiling. “Well, at least it explains why you behave so bizarre. I mean I never knew what you really felt for me back then, but the way you are and the way you act and the way you look at me… I mean nothing you do makes sense at all. That hug… That fucking Altin hug that seems to be your entire family’s standard action right before shredding my heart into pieces… The way you hugged me back then and the way your father hugged me right before he told me that they’d let you die… This fucking painful hug that has brought me nothing but misery… And basically everything you did since you showed up here: carrying me to the car and holding me close until my hair had dried and kissing my forehead. So goddamn gentle, like you had forgotten that you didn’t want me because - yes, basically  _ you have forgotten _ that you didn’t want me!” He laughed in a way Otabek wasn’t sure that it wasn’t a sob. “You are so fucking confusing Otabek, bringing me here, worrying about me. Giving me everything I ever needed from you but not the answer that I have been waiting for so long and that I thought I’d never hear from you. Because you forgot how I put myself in your hands. When I told you that…” He inhaled shakily. “Do you want to know?”, he asked, looking up to him with lashes glittering from moisture. “Do you want to know what I told you back then?” And when Otabek nodded, silently because he couldn’t make his vocal chords work, Yuri said: “I told you that I fell in love with you.” His words not more than a whisper now, “deeply”, and when Otabek only stared at him speechless he added: “Don’t you dare hugging me now, Otabek Altin, or I swear to God I’ll kill you with my own hands this time, do you hear me?”

It didn’t make sense. Nothing of it. But it was true. It was back in a glimpse just like Yuri just had told him. Yuri had confessed his love and Otabek had hugged him and the confusion was the same he had felt back then. Yuri had wanted him all along. He should have known. How had he been so blind? It had always been there, right before his eyes. Yuri’s hands in his, that look in his eyes, that smile, the blush on his nose tip. So close. There had been something. There could have been something. But that had been so long ago. And now, what now? 

It wasn’t that complicated, really: He loved Yuri. Time had changed a lot of things. But that at least had never changed: he loved Yuri.

“I hear you”, he murmured and he did want to hug Yuri, but he resisted. “And I think I can give you that answer you demand.”

Otabek could see the fear in Yuri’s eyes when the blonde looked at him. “Say it.”

“I love you, too.”

Yuri bit his lip, then shook his head, lowering his eyes. He seemed to wither like a flower. “Why didn’t you tell me back then?”

“I guess I was overwhelmed”, Otabek said, still fighting the urge to pull Yuri in an embrace. “I hadn’t expected you to tell me that. The way you started… It sounded like you were pushing me away.” He jumped when Yuri yelled with tears in his eyes:

“So you hugged me like you wanna say you’re sorry and made me think that you didn’t want me before you sacrificed yourself for me?!” He snuffled violently. “What’s with that hug anyway?! Why does it feel like an apology? Why couldn’t you just kiss me and let me know that I wasn’t imagining everything? Why are you so fucking awkward? And how long have you been laughing behind my back pretending you were not more than a friend? When you were... “ He shot Otabek a glance that was so angry but in a childish way that it made him smile a little. “How long had you known you were in love with me? Since Antalya? Since Almaty?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “Since Barcelona?!”

Otabek reached out and took Yuri’s hands, carefully. The thin white fingers were trembling from the cold and from the emotions. “Always”, he said, then looked up at Yuri whose eyes were overflowing with tears now. “I’ve always loved you.”

“What does that mean?”, Yuri whispered, tears glittering in the twilight.

“It means”, Otabek murmured, remembering when he had told his mother. He had made a mistake back then, not counting the years of his coma in, but he did now. It sounded awkward when he said: “I’ve loved you for ten years. I’ve loved you all my life. Since I was in that summer camp and didn’t even recognize love when it struck me.” And eventually: “I’ve always only loved you. And I always will.”

Yuri flew into his arms. “Otabek”, he sobbed, his breath so warm against Otabek’s skin and his arms so tight around his ribs. 

It felt right, somehow. It was warm and sharp at the edges, just like Yuri. He wasn’t scared anymore, nor embarrassed, nor sad. For the first time in a very, very long time he was happy. Honestly, sincerely happy.

“Then why didn’t you kiss me just now?”, Yuri asked, letting Otabek caress his hair.

With a blush Otabek frowned. “I... I didn’t know how”, he murmured, making Yuri look up at him with a confused expression. “I was surprised. I have never…” He sighed. “But I want to.” He rose his hands to wipe the tears from Yuri’s face.

“I understand”, the blonde said softly.

The smile came back to Otabek’s lips. “I wanted it to be you.” 

Now Yuri smiled too. It was a pretty smile. Light and silky, coming with a blush like pastel pink rose petals framed by spun gold.

Otabek leaned forward and kissed him. 

It was soft. Softer than he had imagined. Warmer too. He closed his eyes. On his skin he felt Yuri’s breath, like butterflies’ wings. His fingers were still wet from Yuri’s tears, but there were no new tears falling from Yuri’s lashes. When Yuri tilted his head a little Otabek felt thin arms pulling him closer. His hands shifted to be buried in the golden mane, silky strands running through his fingers just like he had always dreamt of. Yuri pressed his lips against Otabek’s a little more, sighing and it made Otabek’s insides clench. His heart felt like it was breaking from all the love he felt. But it was wonderful. It was all he needed. 

When Yuri broke the kiss it felt perfect. He looked up at Otabek with his big green eyes and smiled. “So”, he said. “That was your first kiss then?” And when Otabek nodded he said: “I’m very happy, Otabek. You make me very happy.” And then he kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of the second section, from now on Otabek won't have to cry so much. Poor boy!! ^^  
> I'm so relieved now! ^^ How about you?


	29. We protect those we love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!  
> I finished the chapter today and I just couldn't wait so you get one in the middle of the week ^^ I hope some of you subscribed so you get notified that I did that ;D  
> I love this chapter so much, seriously!!  
> Btw I don't have a beta, so if there's typos I missed when proofreading I might notice them when I read through this in two weeks or something and hopefully find them there. You are always welcome to point stuff out ion the comments or on tumblr or twitter if you like <3

Everything about Yuri seemed like from a dream. The hesitant kisses. The shine of his hair. The shape of his eyebrows and the glittering tourmaline of his eyes. It was like Otabek was only imagining things, because so much beauty couldn’t possibly be real. And it was not only the appearance, the mere sight. Every touch was so soft it felt unreal. Every movement of Yuri’s gentle fingers and every blink with those lashes as golden as thick, dark honey. There was no way he was real. There was no way he was here with him. But every time Yuri looked at him and every time he leaned closer and every time Otabek felt those silky lips on his own he startled awake only to find the dream was indeed reality.

They skated in the twilight, side by side. Sometimes Yuri would stop and lean in to kiss him and sometimes Otabek would pull him closer to do the same. The blades sang on the ice, this calm song that had accompanied Otabek’s life from that moment on he had first seen Yuri.

“I was 10”, Yuri whispered, looking up at Otabek who had his arms around the lean frame of the blonde. “You fell in love with a child.”

“I never saw you as a child”, Otabek replied. “I saw you as you were, fierce and sharp, burning blue. And before I realized that I loved you I wanted to be close to you, as close as I could.”

“Burning blue…” Yuri smiled. “You could have burned your fingers.”

“I did. And the pain reminded me what it’s like to feel alive.”

It was true. All his life he had been told to behave. But in order to do so he had needed to suppress his emotions. He had lived the life his mother had wanted for him. At the same time it hadn’t been what he had thought ‘living’ meant for him. He had run and functioned, obeyed and pretended to be happy when it wasn’t the life he wanted. Because they had taken his childhood and made him into a stoic, awkward little thing that never laughed and never cried and that could only feel disappointment. He had felt that constantly - nothing he had achieved seemed to satisfy, not his mother, not his coach, not himself. His ballet had been bad, his skating had been bad and on top of that his character had been weird at best. He had felt dead inside and he had looked dead outside. Only when he had met Yuri Plisetsky he had realized that it could be different and everything had changed. He had returned. His dreams had. His desires had. And look where it had brought him.

“You’re the person who made me who I am today”, Otabek whispered, a blush glowing on Yuri’s skin. “And there’s no way I could make you understand how thankful I am.”

Without a word Yuri pressed his mouth on Otabek’s, his fingers tugging on his jacket.

 

**н**

 

Seeing Yuri leave wasn’t as painful after what he had learned in this night.

When it was time he brought him back to his apartment, walked him to his car and kissed him goodbye.

“I’ll find a way”, Yuri prognosticated, looking small and fragile in the dark seat of the Audi, “we’ll be together soon. I’ll find a way.”

“Please be careful.”

Yuri nodded, then frowned. “Otabek. Just one more thing.” His eyes wandered over the steering wheel, then with an insecure smirk he looked back up to Otabek who had his hand on the door to close it. “Earlier, when you said it was your first kiss… It wasn’t.” He watched confusion spread on Otabek’s expression and shrugged. “When I came to Almaty to see you in the hospital the last time… Well, there’s a reason your mother hates me I guess. I just was so devastated, I would have done anything to make you wake up and after nothing else had worked…” He chuckled nervously. “I… I just thought that if there has ever been something like… like  _ magic _ in the world… then you deserved it. And if there was a way to make you wake up, to break- to break the spell… This sounds so stupid, but I thought I would regret it if I didn’t at least try. And if there was anyone who could give you a true love’s kiss… then it would be me.” He smiled, squirming under Otabek’s stare. “So I tried.” And with a sigh he added: “Your parents caught me. Apparently your mother didn’t like to witness that…” He laughed lowly, biting his lip.

“She didn’t tell me.” Otabek sighed, then squatted down next to the car and took Yuri’s hands. “She didn’t even tell me you came to see me. Nor did my father. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m sorry I wasn’t aware.”

“It’s okay”, Yuri replied. “I just wanted you to know about it. And that it was my first kiss too.” He smiled. “It’s a little embarrassing I guess. But I’m glad I did it back then.”

Otabek nodded. “Me too. Thank you.” He kissed the back of Yuri’s hand, then stood. “Promise you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

Watching the R8 disappear in the dark of the night didn’t hurt as much as he had expected. Not as much as seeing Yuri leave had hurt before.

He went back upstairs, sitting down on his mattress and took his notebook. He could fill a lot of pages now.

 

**е**

 

_ I talked to aljosha. you need to get to the office as soon as possible. I’ll wait for you there. dress nicely. _

 

It was by far the weirdest text Boris had ever sent him. Otabek had woken up from the sound of his phone and he was wide awake when he had read him. 

_ I will be there in 30 minutes _ , he messaged Boris while wriggling out of the jerseys he’d slept in. Whatever it was that Aljosha and Boris needed to meet him for it didn’t sound as if there was a second to waste.

Only fifteen minutes later Otabek was showered, dressed in a three piece suit in all black with the Grach strapped close to his ribs and on the bike to head over to Aljosha’s workplace. He was glad that it was so close to his apartment and it took him only six minutes in this friday’s morning traffic to arrive at the car park under the building.

Boris half-sat on the hood of his rusty Lada and waved at him nonchalantly.

“Erasyl, nice you could make it so quickly!”, he said, cheerful as ever. He didn’t look as upset as Otabek had expected after the text he had received but he decided it was a good sign that Boris seemed in a good mood.

“Your text sounded like the place was on fire and I didn’t want to miss all the action”, he said, forcing a smile that must come out a little awkward telling from Boris’ grin.

“Relax, my brother, no need to worry. You know Aljosha, he’s always acting like he’s the only busy person in the world. How about he go upstairs and see what he’s got for you?”

The wording made Otabek frown, but he nodded.  _ For you _ sounded suspicious in a way that Otabek wasn’t sure he liked. Especially not after he had had some kind of rendezvous with the vor’s lover just a few hours ago. For sure they hadn’t been seen by anyone. His place was hidden and no one would have accidentally come across Yuri’s R8 behind the Turkish company that had been closed that late. They had taken the back entrance to the rink, hidden between the trees surrounding the building in a little park like arrangement. There had been no cameras in the rink, not that it was very likely that they could have recorded anything with how dark it had been there with only the lamp in the lobby on. And even on the way back Otabek had made sure that they didn’t draw too much attention. Then their goodbye under the metal stairs that led to his place. If someone had been there Otabek had noticed. There was no way someone had seen them. Despite, if there had anyone been looking for Yuri they had suspected him to be at Zhenya’s place and even if he had not been found there they would have called him on his cellphone. It was so extremely unlikely that anyone knew that they had met, but still Otabek felt anxious.

Boris led him inside, then to the elevator. Otabek watched how he didn’t press the button for Aljosha’s office but the one that read  _ Orlov Kompaniya _ . It increased his unease, but he forced himself to remain calm. The gun sat right next to his chest and in the worst case he could at least try to make it out of there. He didn’t know how the inside of Orlov’s headquarter looked; he had only been up there once, back when they had dropped Jessenin off and even then he had not seen more than the entrance area. There had not been guards up there, but that didn’t mean that this was the rule. If they had found out about him he could as well expect a dozen AK-47s at the ready and aiming at him up there. No chance for him to make it with only his Grach. When it came to the worst he would have to negotiate. The thought that he wasn’t sure if Orlov was willing to negotiate when Otabek had kissed his kitten just the night before - or rather the suspicion that he was absolutely in no mood to negotiate with his kitten’s lover if he really had found out about them - made his throat go dry. He’d have to rush to extremes to make Orlov give him a chance. And that didn’t even include the possibility what he might do to Yuri - or might have done already…

His thoughts got interrupted when the elevator stopped at Aljosha’s office, the doors sliding open to reveal the key keeper.

“Morning Aljosha!”, Boris greeted cheerfully, but the other man grimaced.

“Can’t you follow Erasyl’s example”, he grumbled and entered the elevator, “and keep your mouth shut  _ at least _ that early in the morning? It’s people like you, you know, people who are happy and noisy at half past eight that get shot in the face by people like me…”

“Wow”, Boris grinned, “your mood is worse than usually!”

The doors slid shut again and the elevator started moving when Aljosha explained: “I’ve had a lot of trouble with the fire that broke out in Sergej’s place. One of the neighbors had called the police and they were not so pleased about the paperwork that was the result.” He huffed in annoyance. “Police tips are getting a little too expensive lately if you ask me…”

Boris shrugged. “Those guys just want to feed their families, you know…”

“Sure”, Aljosha countered. “But if they want to feed their families why do they decide to become cops? It doesn’t make sense, really…”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened once again. Otabek, who had silently listened to the conversation let the other two men get off first, following them wordlessly. The lobby looked exactly like it had the first time, no guards, no Kalashnikovas.

Aljosha nodded in greeting at the woman at the reception desk who got up and headed over to the ebony door in the back of the room. She knocked carefully at the wood that was decorated with the thin lined ornament of the Orlov crest in what appeared to be beaten gold. There was a voice coming from inside and she opened the door a little, sticking her head inside. “Aljosha’s here”, her voice could be heard and then a “Please, have them enter.” Without a doubt Orlov’s voice.

Otabek’s heart rate sped up.

The woman turned to them with a smile and gestured towards the door. “I’ll bring tea in a second”, she said with fine lines crinkling the skin around her eyes and mouth when the three men passed by.

“That would be very nice”, Boris said and followed Aljosha inside, Otabek right behind him.

The room they entered was furnished with dark wooden pieces, light beige silk wall covering and a dark green carpet that made the entire room look so classy and elegant it appeared to be a movie set more than an actual parlor. The ceiling was high, four meters at least, a crystal chandelier hanging from a massive chain. There was a living room suite, an assembly of heavy seats and sofas with velvet covers the same deep green as the carpet surrounding a coffee table that sparkled from crystal. In the back of the room Otabek spotted a chimney, a massive frame made of marble in white and brown that was so light it looked like there were threads of gold embroidered in the stone. 

What really caught his eye though was the stretcher frame above it. It was like his eyes got drawn to the photography on the canvas, the colors so pale it almost looked monochrome if it wasn’t for the light gold of the hair and the bright green of Katyusha’s eyes. Otabek only allowed himself a moment to stare at the porcelain skin only covered by translucent black thigh-highs and an unadorned black garter belt, plain black panties and glossy black Louboutin heels. The earrings glittered but not nearly as much as the green eyes, framed by the thick golden lashes. The photography was so artistically erotic, so tasteful that Otabek’s insides burned with longing.

Frowning he looked away.

“What a nice proof of conscientiousness that early in the morning”, Orlov said with a laugh. He stood by a dark wooden sideboard on the left opening a small golden cigarette case. He took a small brown cigar the size of a cigarette out of it, then closed the case carefully before turning towards his guests. “I see you brought company”, he added when spotting the three of them. “Please. Make yourself comfortable, Miss Lysenkova will be here with tea in a second.” He gestured to the luxurious seats and excused himself. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared through the door in the far back, leaving the three of them behind.

They sat down and Otabek caught himself looking over to the photography again.

“Pretty little thing, isn’t he?”, Boris said and nudged his elbow.

Otabek frowned. “I almost didn’t recognize him. He looks like a girl.”

“That’s the hair”, Boris said with a laugh and took a cigarette out of his pocket, earning a scowl from Aljosha on the seat left to the sofa they had sat down on. He put the cigarette back as if nothing had happened. “You should see him when little Elen is through with him, he looks like a princess with all the braids and bows and little bric-a-bracs the girl decorates him with.”

“That’s Orlov’s daughter?”

“Ah, you haven’t met them”, Boris exclaimed. “It’s about time, those girls are little angels, both of them. No similarity to the triplets!” He barked out a laugh and even Aljosha grinned.

“They are really good as gold”, the other man agreed.

Otabek was about to object that only Dianka seemed to be a little cheeky but that Marisya and especially Cilka were really nice at least when he was around, but the door opened and Orlov was back. Tagging behind him was a very drowsy Yuri, all with leopard print leggings and a hoodie that was at least two sizes too big, the hem hanging mid-thigh and the collar so wide it hung from his one bony shoulder. His hair was in a messy bun at the back of his neck, thick golden strands escaping the hair elastic and framing his soft face. He looked nothing like the person in the photography. If anything he was a million times more beautiful.

Green eyes fell on Aljosha, then on Boris and at last on Otabek, but either Yuri had expected him to be here or he was really good at acting annoyed upon taking sight of him. “You said Aljosha is here”, he complained in a low voice. “What are  _ they _ doing here?”

Orlov chuckled and maneuvered the boy to the sofa on the opposite side of the table. “Be nice, kitten”, he murmured and sat down, Yuri falling on the padding next to him. He shot Otabek a glance and pulled his feet up on the sofa, snuggling up against Orlov. The vor wrapped his arm around Yuri and placed his hand on Yuri’s hip. In any other context the sight would have been extremely upsetting for Otabek, but with this short look that Yuri had given him he felt that Yuri knew exactly what he was expected to do. There was no way he could avoid it and with that glance he apologized to Otabek, at the same time asking him to not misinterpret the affinity to Orlov. Otabek leaned back against the sofa a little to show Yuri that he was willing to play along. He didn’t know why he was here or why Yuri was here, but he had expected a situation like this to take place sooner or later and he focused to maintain his calm façade. That didn’t mean that the sight of Yuri so lovingly pulled against Orlov wasn’t unpleasant. He just couldn’t do anything about it. It was no use getting angry.

“So”, Orlov said, his cigarette sitting in the pocket of his grey dress shirt forgotten. “You said there was a fire in Sergej’s house?”

“Unfortunately yes”, Aljosha said. “I was called by the police. It seems the wiring in the house was very old and a short circuit caused a cable fire.”

“It’s a pity, but that’s what happens to those old houses. The electrical installations were made in a hurry and there was not much time to be very thorough.”

Boris next to Otabek nodded. “You hear that a lot.”

“But I heard that the two of you”, he looked to Boris and Otabek, “happened to be in the house shortly before the… accident happened.”

“That’s true”, Boris said. “We wanted to see if Sergej was well. You know, he didn’t answer his phone lately.”

“Yes, he wasn’t available for days. Instead you guys took his responsibilities.” Miss Lysenkova entered the room with a tea tray and put it on the table with a smile, then withdrew quietly again, so Orlov continued: “I am very thankful for your service, and Katyusha here as well, aren’t you, kitten?”

Yuri shrugged. “Yes, Daddy.” He turned his head and pressed his forehead against Orlov’s shoulder, just like a real cat would do.

“That’s why you went to see Sergej?”, Orlov continued, stroking Yuri’s head gently.

Otabek, who sat closest to the tray, poured tea in the fragile white cups, noticing that the bottom of the china was decorated with Orlov’s crest as well. he handed out the cups carefully, starting with Yuri, then Orlov and at last Aljosha and Boris, who gave him a smile, then answered Otlov’s question:

“I don't like that much driving”, he confessed, laughing a little. “It wasn’t all altruism that brought us there.”

“I see. What did you find there?”

“Well…”, Boris sighed. “I’m not sure who was aware of it, but it seems that Sergej had taken a certain liking of Katyusha here. And one of that kind that doesn’t seem… healthy?”

Orlov frowned. “Please specify.”

“Well, he… he seemed to be a little… obsessed with him. When we came there the entire flat was covered in pictures. Like, the floor and the walls, they were everywhere.”

“What kind of pictures?” It was satisfying that Orlov seemed a little alarmed now.

Boris groaned, struggling for words, so Otabek jumped in:

“The kind of pictures you don’t surround yourself with if you aren’t suffering from erotomania, schizophrenic obsession or a similar mental disorder”, he said, slowly.

Orlov’s look was like a gunshot. “That sounds almost like you know what you are talking about…”

This time it was hard to not react, but somehow he managed to not look offended. “I know what I saw in there”, he replied, his voice as calm as before. “It was far beyond the point of ‘taking a certain liking of Katyusha’.”

“It was disgusting, really”, Boris cut in, making Orlov look away from him. 

Otabek felt a little relieved, but he didn’t let it show. The wrath in the vor’s eyes had been frightening. Only now Otabek noticed how Orlov’s hand held Yuri close to him like he could protect him this way. It almost made him laugh, when he thought about how this was the same man that had let his friend Jessenin use Yuri not so long ago. And now he acted like he was so protective.

_ “When the only one who can protect him is you” _ , Erasyl whispered in his head. It sent shivers down Otabek’s spine.

“It looked like pictures from back then”, Boris explained. “From before Katyusha came here, you know. Screenshots of several… Well…” He fell silent.

Orlov nodded, taking a sip from his tea, then put the cup back down onto the saucer with a subtle  _ click _ . “I knew Sergej was attached to Katyusha. I thought it was a good thing. We protect those we love.”

Yuri huffed and it made Orlov look down at him.

“Do you disagree?”

Yuri wriggled around a little, then leaned his slender back against Orlov’s side. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“If you’re an asshole who takes advantage of those you are ordered to protect once they are on coke and can’t resist your groping and talking bullshit.”

“Did he?”, Orlov asked and Otabek held his breath.

Yuri shot his patron a glance over his shoulder. “Guess what?”

Orlov took a deep breath and sat back. “Well, the problem solved itself.”

Yuri turned around to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you ask our guests?”, Orlov said and gestured to Boris and Otabek with his tattooed left hand.

Boris had just picked up his tea cup. It hung half way between the table and his mouth. “Uhm… Well, we called Danya to take care of him.”

“Danya?” Yuri tilted his head, looked to Otabek and back to Boris. “Should I know who that is?”

“He’s in charge of cleaning the scenes”, Orlov explained. “No one you have to remember.”

At that Yuri’s look became puzzled. “Cleaning the scenes?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”, Boris said, took a slurp of his tea and then said: “When we came there Sergej had been dead for a few days alread-”

“What?!”, Yuri sat straight, his eyes darting from Boris to Orlov. “He’s dead?!”

“This is why we met here today”, was the answer.

Yuri slumped back against the sofa. “What the fuck? Why didn’t anyone tell me? What happened?”

“He must have choked on his own vomit”, Aljosha who had been silent for a while said. “Sadly the police will not be able to find out with the place on fire.”

The shock on Yuri’s face made way for a tiny smirk. “Yeah, the fire. It’s such a coincidence that everything burned down.”

“Very tragic”, Boris concluded.

“As things are now”, Orlov said, “we don’t have anyone who could take Sergej’s place as your driver, my love.”

Aljosha grinned. “Well, that’s not entirely true.” Everyone looked over to him and it seemed he enjoyed having baited them, taking a sip from his tea, making them all wait. “As chance would have it our dear Erasyl here proved to be very reliable…”

All eyes were on Otabek suddenly and he didn’t know where to look, so he looked at Orlov who eyed him with suspicion.

“I had the pleasure to witness your probity on some occasions. You were the one who drove Katyusha to the veterinarian when the cat was ill, correct me if I’m wrong.”

Otabek nodded, his palms sweaty. “That was me, Sir.”

“He accompanied me while Mr Jessenin was here, too”, Boris added. “He’s been very helpful, really.”

“And he’s the only one who respects the non-smoking rule in the cars”, Aljosha added lowly, making Boris laugh.

Orlov who hadn’t looked away from Otabek when the other had spoken frowned. “Do you whore around?”, he asked and when Otabek shook his head kept inquiring: “Do you drink? Do you take drugs?”

“No, Sir, I’m Muslim.”

Orlov nodded. “I’m afraid I don’t know you very well, but as you can imagine it’s not an easy task to know every member of a bratva so widespread and powerful”, he stated, the threat obvious. Otabek didn’t even blink. “So you’re not from Moscow.”

Again Otabek nodded. Finally he could make use of the story Nad and her friends had constructed for him. “I just returned to Moscow a few weeks ago. I had been in the US and Canada for personal reasons for a while.”

“Aren’t you Korean?”, Orlov asked, and again Boris laughed.

“See, I always say you are so obviously Korean! It’s not only me!”

Huffing a laugh Otabek explained: “I was born in Seimei, but one of my ancestors is Korean, so maybe this is where this misunderstanding comes from. I  _ have _ trained in Korea though, some time ago.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, like most of his new résumé wasn’t: he  _ had _ been in the US and Canada after all and he  _ had _ trained in Korea. That it hadn’t been for bratva purposes remained unsaid.

“Is that so…”, Orlov said, plucking the small cigar from his shirt pocket. Boris was ready with a lighter in an instant, Orlov thanking him with a nod and taking a puff of the sweet smelling tobaccos. He leaned back and placed his left hand on Yuri’s thigh. Under two massive rings the fingers were decorated with tattoos, some of them dark, some of them blurred and light blue, the ink fading away from the years. There were crosses on every finger showing that he had taken trips to the zones at the jargon called three times of imprisonment. A ring inked into the skin of the left ring finger, a broad band, was centered by a double headed eagle. The back of his hand showed a stylized lighthouse, a symbol for the demand of freedom, accompanying the five dots under the thumb, meaning “a man between four walls” and the second proof that Orlov had been imprisoned. Otabek looked over to the other hand that held the small cigar. The vor v zakone ring tattoo decorated the middle finger and there were more dots inked onto the knuckles, seven altogether that symbolized seven years of imprisonment. As for the reason for the imprisonment, the skull on the back of Orlov’s right hand spoke of a conviction for murder.

His insides clenching Otabek’s eyes darted to Yuri who absentmindedly played with a strand of his hair that had fallen over his shoulder like the man beside him wasn’t a very dangerous criminal, then Orlov’s voice made him look back at the vor.

“You hear a lot about Korea. How the drill is very… cruel. They say the training there turns eager boys into merciless beasts who don’t think twice to take drastic measures when it’s necessary.” He took another drag from his cigar. “I guess it’s not a bad idea to have someone like you care about my little kitten here. Then again I thought hiring Sergej for the job was a good idea, too. You know best how wrong I was about that.” He sighed. “I wish there was a way to see how far you would go.”

Otabek swallowed. “I guarantee you there’s no reason to doubt my loyalty”, he said, his voice dark and steady. Yuri looked up. The stare out of green eyes was sparkling with fondness.

“Are you saying that you’d do whatever it takes to keep Katyusha safe?” Orlov leaned forward, scrutinizing him like he was looking for a sign of hesitation.

“Anything, if you order me to.”

With a smirk Orlov sat back again. “Now, that’s interesting.” He pondered for a moment, then turned to Yuri: “What do you think, Katyusha. He’ll be your driver after all. Do you like him? He’s handsome too, isn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t give a shit if he had seven eyes and gills”, Yuri said with the most bratty pout and blew a stray lock from his face. “He can drive and he keeps his mouth shut, so why not. At least he’ll spare me the lovey-dovey crap Sergej used to woo me with.”

Orlov hummed. “Well then, Erasyl…” He said the name like to try out if he liked the sound of it. “If you are interested in taking the job, there you go.”

With the tip of his tongue Otabek moistened his lips. “I feel honored by your offer, Sir. I must inquire about the remuneration, though.”

At that Orlov laughed. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He stubbed out the cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the coffee table. “Well, I payed Sergej the same amount as Artjom. Not to offend you, but with what I know now I am not sure if such a payment is appropriate as long as I am not experienced with the quality of your services.”

“Wow, seriously, Daddy?”, Yuri interrupted. “You’re bargaining about the guy who takes care of me? That gloomy bear over there carried me to the car after Uncle Vlad had me wear those fucking heels all night!”

“Is that true?”, Orlov laughed, so Otabek nodded.

“I am worth my money.”

“Alright, it’s settled then!” Orlov clapped his hands and stood. “One more thing though. Would you mind accompanying me to my back office?” He looked over to Boris and Aljosha. “You two can leave, the rest is just some formalities.”

“Thank you for the tea”, Boris said. “See you later, Erasyl.” With that they headed over to the door while Otabek followed Orlov and Yuri in the opposite direction.

When the lounge had been elegantly furnished the office was twice as luxurious. The walls were lined with dark shelves full of thick old books, making the office look like a small library. There was a massive dark desk in the center with all kind of ornaments on it: golden ink bottles and quills, a lamp with a shade that looked like it was made of mother of pearl, an asian looking dagger on a stand, a small marble statue of the Holy Mother, a crystal vase with a single white hellebore. There was a small golden picture frame but Otabek only saw the back side of it.

“In case you wondered”, Orlov said as he walked to the desk, “I’m not a man of written contracts or treaties. I believe that the best relationship relies on trust, so I will not have you signed a paper or anything like that. The problem is that it’s not easy to find trustworthy employees nowadays. I thought I knew Sergej well enough, and now that.” He had stopped in front of the desk, picking up the dagger. When he turned around there was a smile on his face. “A friend of mine gave me this”, he explained, lifting the knife up so Otabek could see it even from where he waited next to the door. Yuri who had strolled over to one of the bookshelves turned around. There was something in his eyes, like he expected something bad to happen.

“It’s an exquisite piece, don’t you think so as well?” Orlov seemed almost dreamy as he looked down on the shining metal, but when he looked back at Otabek there was only cold in his look. “Cut your finger off.”

Yuri gasped, but Otabek wasn’t even surprised. He had suspected that it had gone too smoothly until here. Orlov wasn’t just some guy who wanted to hire a driver. He was one of the most powerful mafia bosses in all Russia. You needed more than a nice suit and a good sounding story to get to protect his foster-son.

No muscle in Otabek’s face moved when he closed the distance. He didn’t hesitate to take the dagger from Orlov’s thick fingers.

His heart beat heavy in his chest as he held the dagger. It was a beautiful work, that much was true. The blade glittered in the light of the chandelier that seemed to be the same as the one in the lounge. If the blade was sharp enough it would go more smoothly, Otabek thought. He would have to try and not make a sound and then hurry and stop the bleeding, so that Yuri wouldn’t be so scared. He would have to take his time though, too, in order not to appear hectic. Orlov wanted a beast and he would get one. If it was what was required to get him closer to Yuri then he wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

He looked up at Orlov with stern expression. “Which one?”

“Which one do you suggest?”

“Daddy”, Yuri whined from next to the bookshelf where he stood frozen like it was dangerous to come any closer. Orlov ignored him.

Otabek looked down at his left hand, holding the dagger with the right. He needed his thumb for driving. The index finger was important too, he used the handles behing the steering wheel with it and secured his gun. The middle finger was important when he stabilized the gun, same for the pinky. The ring finger only served one single purpose: Being decorated with a ring. But there would never be a ring if he wasn’t even willing to sacrifice a finger to become Yuri’s guardian.

“The ringfinger”, he answered, looking up to Orlov again. “It’s not essential for my work.”

Orlov nodded. “Go ahead then.”

Breathing deeply Otabek placed his left hand flat on the wooden surface of the desk. He ignored Yuri’s gasp, when he pressed the blade against the skin of his proximal joint, breaking the skin to relieve a little blood already. It was probably the best idea to try it here, where he didn’t have to cut through the finger bone. That would make the procedure unnecessarily long and painful. Just when he was about to press the dagger all the way down, Yuri appeared next to him and pushed his hand aside.

“Daddy, seriously!”, he exclaimed angrily. “How’s he supposed to take me to the performance tonight if he can’t use his hand? It would be nice if you wouldn’t only think about yourself all the time but a little about what I want, too!”

Orlov seemed to be a little surprised, but then smiled apologetically. “Ah, you're right, kitten, of course you are. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of that.” He leaned down and kissed Yuri’s forehead, then turned to Otabek who still had his hand on the table. “Keep your fingers, son. Katyusha is right, we don’t have time to waste. That kind of stuff leaves such a mess on the table too, let’s leave it be. Just listen,” his eyes became hard and cold again. “I’ll make you cut off other bits of your body if I ever hear or see that you lay a finger on my boy, you hear me?”

Otabek stood straight, his chest tight. “That will never happen, Sir.”

“Good.” He smiled at Yuri. “Go and show your new friend around so he knows where to take you, will you?”

“Yes, Daddy”, Yuri said and gave Orlov a smile as sweet as honey, then turned to the door.

Otabek followed him but halfway to the door Orlov called him back. “Erasyl, I wondered…  Where did you get all those scars?”

Otabek turned slowly, looking at the man who had just given him Yuri without even knowing.

“A long time ago”, he said, his voice deep and low, “I promised to protect someone. By doing so I almost gave my life. These scars are here to remind me of that day and of the boy I saved by sacrificing myself.”

There was a gleam in Orlov’s eyes. Respect. Then he let them leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs* Otabiy you cute little cupcake! q.q
> 
> Btw, if you have been following kawaiiloren's mafia AU you might recognize some of the tattoos Orlov has. She did pretty thorough research on that topic and I know because I have been researching for months now and came to the same conclusions XD I'll upload some stuff to [my tumblr](url) later this week, so check it out if you like!
> 
> Also I love all your comments, seriously! Thank you so much for them also for all the kudos and stuff! *-*


	30. to the bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for letting you wait so long!! I really had a busy and hard time, but I'll make my new year's resolution happen and stop being so lazy right away. I hope some of you are still here to read this ^^'

He must have damaged a thicker vein. The blood ran down his ring finger like a red thread - how metaphoric. It didn’t even hurt, just a vague burning sensation where he had cut through the skin. 

The elevator opened and Yuri stepped inside. He looked a little paler than usually, his complexion more gray than porcelain white. When Otabek followed him inside the elevator he looked down on the injured hand and the corners of his mouth twitched into a grimace. “You're staining the floor.”

It was true. A drop of blood had fallen from the hand that Otabek held close to his leg. A little red dot next to his foot. With a frown he wrapped the right hand around the left, pressing against the cut to stop the bleeding. The blood felt sticky under his fingers.

Yuri huffed, then typed in the code for the upper floors into the number pad.

_ 0 - 8 - 2 - 7 _

It took a second for Otabek to realize what the combination was: the date of Nikolai’s death. His fingers clenched around his left hand and now it did hurt, but not the wound on his finger. 

Yuri didn’t say a word when the elevator started moving, and he didn’t when the doors opened after a short ride. He stepped out of it and Otabek followed him wordlessly.

In contrast to the door that led to the  _ Orlov Kompaniya _ , opulent with dark wood and the golden crest, the door to Yuri’s apartment was plain and white. When Yuri unlocked it with another code that Otabek couldn’t see standing behind the boy and then opened it, he recognized it as a heavy security door made of what was undoubtedly bulletproof metal. He followed Yuri inside and the door fell closed behind him with a soft but solid sound.

He didn’t have time to look around when suddenly Yuri turned around and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pressing Otabek back against the cold door.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!!”, Yuri yelled at him, his eyes narrow slits, glittering with wrath. “Are you completely insane now?! Coming here and applying for this fucking job! If you want to have yourself killed there are easier goddamn ways, you asshole!”

“Yuri-”, Otabek tried to pacify, only to be interrupted by the furious blonde again:

“Do you have any idea what danger you got yourself in, to hand yourself to him on a motherfucking silver platter?! I had no idea you were such a damn idiot! Fucking-” He pulled Otabek away from the door, and pushed him back against it violently.

Otabek could have made Yuri let go of him, but he didn’t want to fight him. What he wanted to was explain. “Yuri…”, he tried again and again Yuri interrupted him.

“Don’t call me that, for fuck’s sake! Do you want us both dead?”

“I want to protect you”, Otabek countered, his voice low and steady where Yuri’s was a mere hiss now.

“If that’s how you plan on keeping me safe you do a fucking awful job”, he judged, but mellowed the grip on Otabek’s shirt.

“It wasn’t my idea,”, Otabek hurried to say, “Boris and Aljosha called me here, I didn’t even know why. They brought me up here without telling me anything. I had no idea. I thought they might have found out about yesterday and brought me here to let Orlov kill me with his own hands.”

With a huff Yuri pushed him against the door a little harder, then let go of him. “And you came here nevertheless?”

Otabek straightened his clothes. “What else should I have done? He could have punished you. If he had found out about us, if he knew, he could have hurt you.”

Yuri had walked a step backwards. He gestured towards Otabek’s hand clasped around his bleeding finger. “Instead he made you hurt yourself”, and when Otabek only nodded he murmured: “You would have done it, am I right? You would have cut your finger off.”

Otabek nodded. “If it had proven my sense of duty to him I would have done it. If it was necessary to bring me closer to you I would have done it.”

The next moment he felt Yuri’s hands in his hair and his lips on his own. The kiss was nothing like any of their kisses before. Last night they had been soft and gentle and sweet. Now it was desperate, almost brutal. Yuri tugged on his hair and pressed their mouths together. When he opened his lips Otabek did the same. He hadn’t kissed like this before, of course he hadn’t. But it felt good. Yuri’s tongue was there and he wrapped his arms around the skinny body, pulling him closer. Yuri’s mouth was warm and moist and sweet and he felt like crying and at the same time so indescribably happy. When after a moment Yuri pulled away his heart beat like it wanted to break out of his chest.

“I love you”, Yuri whispered, breathless, his forehead pressed against Otabek’s. “You fucking moron, I love you so much.”

Otabek pulled him close. He never wanted to let him go. “I love you too”, he whispered.

“It’s dangerous”, Yuri said after a while, holding him close. “He knows you now. He’ll keep an eye on you. It was stupid to come here. So very stupid. But I’m glad.” He looked up again and kissed him softly, like last night. “We have to be careful, Otabek… Erasyl. No one will watch us here, there are no cameras here, but damn, he can come here. And they will watch us literally everywhere else. We have to be very, very careful. Any mistake might cost us our lives.”

“I won’t let that happen”, Otabek whispered and placed a gentle kiss on Yuri’s lips. Then he let him go. “I won’t let anything happen to neither Yuri nor Katyusha.” He straightened and frowned, but he felt the pain he saw in Yuri’s eyes in his chest as well.

Yuri took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “Let’s do something about your finger, before you’re ruining the floor.”

Looking down on his hands Otabek saw that the bleeding had almost stopped, but both his hands were bloodstained now.

“Come.”

Otabek followed Yuri through the spacious apartment. It was almost entirely white, the walls high and austere, the hardwood floor only visible as a narrow plank surrounding thick white carpets that spread across the bigger part of the living room. There was a huge white leather couch and seats of the same design arranged around a glass coffee table and facing the biggest flat screen Otabek had ever seen in person. There were cabinets, glossy and white, as well as a sideboard. The shutters hanging in front of the large windows were closed so that the light was blueish and dim, making the room look surreal.

They crossed the room to enter the one farther left, a dining room with a white table and six chairs. There was a coffee mug sitting on the corner of the table. Clunky and gray it looked terribly out of place, like someone had placed it there to spoil the sterility of the plain white room. It jutted half a centimeter over the edge of the table and it made Otabek uneasy to look at it, like it would fall onto the white carpet under the table with the slightest nudge of even an unlucky gust.

“The bathroom is over here”, Yuri said. He led him through a door on the left. What seemed to be the ceiling, hanging angular, could only be the stairs that led from the entrance door up to the left to the second floor - or the 37th rather.

The bathroom was small. Otabek guessed there was a bigger one upstairs, as well as the bedroom. Yuri was already at the cabinet next to the basin, pulling the top drawer out. He produced a cardboard box and pulled the lid aside to take a peek at the contents. “Lucky you”, he said and fished a band aid out of the box. “Last one.”

Otabek smiled the tiniest smile when he had washed the blood from his hands and Yuri made him sit down on the toilet lid, kneeling on the floor to attach the band aid to his finger. There were tiny stylized cats on the band aid.

Yuri pressed the sticky ends around Otabek’s finger gently, then he smiled up at him. His cheeks turned a little pink when he lowered his eyes and kissed the injured knuckle. “Now it won't hurt anymore”, he whispered without looking up at him as if he was embarrassed.

Otabek swallowed hard. He doubted that he would ever get over how beautiful Yuri was, how enchanting. With the patched up hand he brushed a loose golden strand from Yuri’s peachy pink cheek, tucking it behind the pretty ear. His voice sounded raspy when he said: “Thank you.”

Yuri blushed even more and bit his lip, then shook his head. “Thank you…” He sighed, then got up again. “Come on, let me show you around for real.”

He gave Yuri a tour through the first floor of the apartment that he had seen the bigger part of already, only the kitchen a new sight. They went back over to the stairs, Yuri leading him to the upper floor. Coming upstairs Otabek was greeted by floor-to-ceiling windows, the shutters open to reveal a balcony with grass on the ground and beyond it the most beautiful sight of Moscow he had ever witnessed.

He had never thought about the city much. It was where Yuri came from was what mattered. And recently it was where Yuri lived. Nothing else had ever been of interest for him here. But finding himself confronted with the city so old, so sublime sent a shiver down his spine. He gazed at the tall, lean buildings in the dull morning sun, the glass fronts shining and a few of the Seven Sisters raising their heads over the surrounding rooftops. The Ostankino Tower and the Monument to the Conquerors of Space stuck out in a distance like thorns piercing the blueish-gray sky that reflected in the Moskva and the canal that laid like ribbons of spilled quicksilver across the city. It was beautiful and nasty at the same time, like a demon that had grasped his heart with a cold and brutal but bizarrely beautiful hand.

He turned to find Yuri an arm length away from him, staring out of the huge window as well. The cold of the sky made his eyes miss the sparkle he had fallen in love with.

“I hate it”, he said, his voice weak. “It’s so broken and corrupted. I want to run away and never look back, but I feel like I would die if I did. Like leaving would separate a part from me that’s vital. That can never be replaced. Something that is rooted so deep inside of me that it keeps me here. It’s a leash, but it’s attached to my very soul. This place is a prison. An ugly, cold, painful prison and I couldn’t leave it even if I wanted, because it’s a part of what’s left of me, the real me.” He turned his head and looked at Otabek with so much despair in his clouded eyes that he felt like his heart was breaking in a million pieces.

“The code for the elevator”, Otabek asked slowly. “It’s the day your grandfather died.”

Yuri nodded.

“The code for the front door…”

“It’s the day you died.”

Otabek frowned.

“One-zero-three-one”, Yuri whispered.

Otabek felt tears well up in his eyes. “Please don’t”, he said, his voice cracking so that it came out as a hoarse whisper. He couldn’t bring out the words, so Yuri said:

“It was meant to be the day you died. Now it’s your birthday.” His eyes lit up when something came to his mind. “I… I never had the opportunity to give you your present.” He chuckled lowly, rubbing tears from his own eyes with the back of his hand. “I still have it. Do you want it?”

Otabek nodded, his teeth clenched to fight the tears back.

“Come.” Yuri grabbed his hand and guided him along the glass doors to the bedroom that faced the farther side of the balcony. 

The large bed was pushed against the wall in the far back, the sheets as white as the rest of the apartment. In the right corner, between the bed and the wall that separated the bathroom visible through the open door from the bedroom, a cat condo caught Otabek’s eye. The perches were covered with leopard print cloth, the only hint of Yuri’s taste he had spotted so far. Apart from that the upper floor was just as sterile as everything else Otabek had seen so far.

Yuri pulled him over to the bed and pushed the rumpled blanket aside for Otabek to sit down on the mattress. Then he pulled the drawer of the small night stand open and rummaged around in it for a moment. He stopped, hesitated, then took a small box out of the drawer.

“It’s not a ring”, he pointed out and pushed the small box in Otabek’s hands. “It’s nothing special, really”, he mumbled. “Actually it’s a little embarrassing now, but back then I thought… I don’t know, I thought it was a nice idea back then… Maybe I should have never…” He sighed. 

Otabek smiled as he turned the small tiger striped box in his hands. “Can I open it?”

Yuri only shrugged, his cheeks and nose tip red.

Otabek opened the box carefully. The lid opened like a ring box and the inside was lined with black velvet or something similar. There was no ring inside, though, like Yuri had said. Instead there was a small pendant. It looked like a Kazakh coin, 50 tiyin, like the one he had worn as a lucky charm, but not in the usual silver. He picked it from the velvet, a thin chain unraveling like a liquid.

“It’s made of bronze”, Yuri explained low-voiced. “I had it made after you told me that you lost yours in Helsinki. I always thought that you deserved Bronze in Barcelona, so… well… maybe you think it’s stupid…”

“No”, Otabek said. He closed his fist around the small coin, pressing it to his chest. “It means a lot to me.” When Yuri shrugged he added: “It’s the most precious thing I can think of.”

A small smile showed on rosy lips. “More precious than me?”

Otabek huffed a laugh. “Let’s say it’s even.”

The grin that lit up Yuri’s face might have been just as precious.

“You had that made for me?”, he asked, opening his hand and looking down onto the shimmering coin. It was weird to see the familiar shape and embossing in a metal different from the usual silver. It was beautiful. When Otabek looked closer he saw that the year at the bottom of the coin was his birth year. He looked up to Yuri whose smile looked shy and proud equally. “Thank you”, Otabek said and took Yuri’s hand to place a kiss on his fingertips.

Yuri helped him putting on the chain and tucking it underneath his shirt. His soft fingers brushed against Otabeks skin. When the metal touched his chest a little under his collarbone it felt cold, but within seconds the metal warmed up against his skin. Otabek shot a glance at the diamond studded bracelet around Yuri’s right wrist. Odd how small pieces of metal could hold meanings so similar yet so entirely different. They were both promises, Yuri’s bracelet Orlov’s promise to protect him, but at the same time a manacle that bound Yuri to him. On the other hand Otabek liked to think of the bronze pendant as a promise, too - Yuri’s promise to believe in Otabek. It meant so much to him.

“About that,”, Yuri said, fixing Otabek’s necktie, “we need to get you to the outfitter. Those suits you wear look kinda okay, but now that you are officially my driver you could use some tailored garments. I have a reputation and from today on you do too.”

Otabek nodded. “As you wish, master.”

For a moment Yuri stared at him, then he broke out in laughter. “Oh wow, your humor is still the worst!”

 

**д**

  
  


Afternoon found Otabek in a café downtown with a black tea and going through the small ad section of several newspapers. 

Yuri had convinced him that they could not spent too much time together, not when Orlov knew they were together. “Too hinky”, he had whispered and pressed a kiss onto Otabek’s lips, then shoved him towards the door. “You remember the rules?”

“I will not touch you,”, Otabek repeated what they had agreed upon earlier, after Yuri had showed him the rest of the apartment, “I will not reach out to you. I will always wait for you to call me, text me or come to me. I will never talk to anyone about you, unless it would make me look suspicious. I will call you Katyusha.”

“At all times”, Yuri pressed. “You will call me Katyusha at all times, wherever we are, even if noone is around. Even here. Even in the car. Even outside. And I will call you Erasyl. We can never use our real names. Only here, when we can be sure that no one is around and at your place.”

“Only here and there”, Otabek nodded in agreement.

“It’s safe there, isn’t it?”, Yuri whispered, holding Otabek’s hands tight like he intended to break them.

“It’s safe there”, he echoed, leaning in and placing his lips on Yuri’s comfortingly.

Yuri leaned in the kiss a little, then backed away, too soon for Otabek’s taste. “You need to leave”, he said. His fingers still holding Otabek’s hands tight spoke a different language.

“Will you be alright?”, he asked and Yuri nodded.

“Of course I will be. You should care about yourself for a change.”

“I will never stop caring about you, Yuri”, he promised, then corrected himself. “Katyusha.” It felt wrong saying that name. But of course there was no helping it. Yuri was right, they couldn’t take any risks. The smallest mistake could cost them their lives. The only place that he knew was a hundred percent safe was his own flat, and he knew because he had personally chosen it for being a perfect hideaway. 

“Go”, Yuri said and this time let go of Otabek’s hands. “I’ll text you later, Erasyl.”

He had left with a plan forming in his head even before the elevator doors slid shut.

So now he was going through the narrowly printed lines of small ads in tiny cyrillic characters, marking interesting entries with a circle here and there. The cats on the bandaid seemed to pitter-patter over the paper.

He had decided that the traditional way of finding a used car, namely by buying newspapers and try his luck with the ads in them, was safer than looking for one online. He wouldn’t want to leave any traces on the internet that could be tracked back to him and he didn’t know enough about erasing them or not leaving traces in the first place to make sure to avoid anything that could put him in danger. Calling someone who sold their car from a phone booth and arrange a meeting if he found something was less risky, especially if he bought the car right away paying in cash. He would never meet the person a second time, he could just take the key and car documents and disappear without even telling them his name.

He did have to look up the car models online though. There were dozens of cars in each newspaper, and after the fifth page he had a feeling for what brand and model had been sold in masses years ago. It would be the smartest to chose one that wouldn’t stand out in the Moscow traffic, so he mostly circled small cars built between 1995 and 2005. He wrote down the phone numbers and specifics of eight cars in question and emptied his cup before leaving the café.

He walked half an hour, making sure to shake off anyone who might have gotten interested in him in the café, before dumping the newspapers in a lopsided trash bin and heading over to a telephone booth on the opposite side of the street.

The first number he dialed was out of service, the second one had an answering machine cutting in before the first ring ended. Of course he didn’t leave a message.

The third call was answered by a man who first coughed into the receiver in a way that made Otabek suspect that he either smoked three packs of cigarettes a day or had a serious bronchitis.

“You’re calling for the car?”, he asked without a greeting and when Otabek answered affimative he hummed: “Listen, I’ve had a dozen people come see the car today, but as soon as they realize that the heating and the rear wiper and the lock and the window handle on the passenger’s side  _ really _ don’t work they leave. I’m tired of this shit.” He coughed again. “So, if you haven’t read the ad properly and are not okay with the flaws the car has then don’t bother me. I’ve got better things to do than stand outside and wait of another one of you just to be let down.”

The man sounded like he was ready to hang up, so Otabek hurried to say: “I am still interested.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then the man spoke again. “You are?”, he asked surprised.

“Yes”, Otabek answered. “I am aware of the description of the car’s condition and I am willing to purchase it in case it is still available.”

From the receiver an “Oh” could be heard.

“I would like to inspect the car before I make my final decision as I am sure you’ll understand. If I find the car in the condition you stated in the advertisement I am willing to pay you on the spot and in cash without further ado.”

“Of course”, the man said, still sounding perplex. “I can give you the address and you can come and see the car if you like. Right now if you like.”

Otabek checked his wristwatch. It was shortly before noon, and Yuri hadn’t contacted him about the performance he was going to attend later today, so Otabek still had time to arrange things concerning the car. “Tell me the address”, he said and when the man did so he typed in the location into his phone. The address was in the outskirts of Moscow, not too far from where the old apartment of Yuri’s grandfather was. He could be there in half an hour, but he still needed to go get some money in case he decided to buy the car right away. “If it fits your schedule I can be there in two hours”, he said and the man agreed. They hung up and Otabek left the phone booth.

He went back to his small flat, changed into jeans and sweater, tousled his hair a little and took 20.000 roubles out of his suitcase. The ad had said that was the price for the car and he wasn’t in a mood to bargain. He needed things solved quick and without much fuss and it wasn’t like the amount of money the man had set was worth the effort. Sure, the car wasn’t in the best condition, at least from what Otabek could imagine from the description, but Yuri wouldn’t have to use it for a long distance. He would survive the 10 minute drive from his place to Otabek’s even without the heating functioning properly. The idea that Yuri would complain about the inconvenience without a doubt made him smile.

He parked the bike in a car park halfway to the address the man had told him, then called a taxi. He didn’t want to take chances and have the man see his motorcycle, just in case. When the taxi arrived 4 minutes before the time they had agreed upon, Otabek checked that his sleeve didn’t accidentally show his tattoo, paid the driver and got off the taxi with a bright smile.

The man was waiting for him in a pound next to a house that looked almost as old as the man himself. There were a few cars parked there in different states of corrosion, the dark blue VW Golf 3 looking good compared to the two Ladas and a Ford that didn’t even look driveable.

“You see,”, the man said, once more without a greeting, heading over to the car, “it’s exactly like in the description, right?” He coughed. “It’s the last of the cars I sell, the ones over there are junk. My son left the country and I can not afford the house and the business by myself, so I have to sell everything.” He started circling the car, Otabek in tow. “It’s not new, but it’s reliable enough. The edges are rusty, that’s how it is with the production line in Mexico, and the Moscow streets aren’t nice for delicate cars. Here”, he gestured to the gas tank cover that was dark red instead of dark blue. “I had to replace it, because the hinges had rusted off. The tank was rusty as well, I had it replaced. I thought that I wouldn’t have a problem selling a solid, reliable car like this one, but apparently people like those new fancy things better that break in halves if you close the door a little too sudden. It has servo steering, works perfectly well. The heating sometimes doesn’t work, I wrote that in the paper already. Here,”, they had arrived at the passenger side, “the lock doesn’t work, you have to unlock it from the inside, the one on the driver’s side works though-” He was interrupted by another cough, then continued without giving Otabek a chance to say something. “The wheels are as good as new and the brakes have only a few hundred kilometers on the counter. You can make a test drive if you want. You have to deposit the money first though, happened to me once that some thug never came back from the test drive, won’t happen to me again. How about it.”

“Okay”, Otabek said with a shrug and a wide smile.

The man frowned. “Are you really the guy who called earlier? You don’t sound like him at all.”

“Ah, no”, Otabek chuckled, acting as unselfconscious as he was capable of. “That was my brother in law. He asked me to come check out the car, it’s for my nephew you know, he just got his license and we wanted to buy him a car that he can’t damage too much for the beginning.” He laughed cheerful and shrugged again.

The man suppressed a cough and nodded, then dug the key out of his pocket. Otabek did the same with the 20.000 roubles and they exchanged, the man starting to count the bills right away.

“Do you know how everything works?”, he asked as Otabek got into the car and he shot him a confident smile.

“Sure, no problem. I have driven an Audi before, it’s basically the same with VW, right?”

The man shrugged. “The papers are in the glove department. If you aren’t back in 30 minutes I consider the thing settled, is that alright for you?” When Otabek nodded he slammed the door shut, then stepped back and watched as Otabek adjusted the seat and rear mirror. The seat was worn out, but comfortable. When Otabek turned the key the Golf came to life without much hesitation despite the temperature. He smiled to the old man but he had turned away already, counting the bills again as he marched towards the house.

Finally wiping his exhausting JJ-grin from his face Otabek drove off.

 

**в**

 

Finding a place to hide the car close to Yuri’s house was easy enough. There was a underground car park that belonged to the bank in the same house as Yuri’s apartment and that was just on the other side of the street, with multiple entries and driveways. With the pedestrian subway connecting the two sides of the street Yuri wouldn’t even have to cross the street in the open.

Otabek had driven the Golf to the location where he had left the bike, then driven the bike home, then taken a bus back to the car. On his way to the bank’s car park he stopped at a DIY shop and bought a spray can of dark blue paint, repainting the tank lid right there in the parking lot of the shop so the car would be less easy to recognize. He also bought a steering wheel cover made of dark gray sheep wool so that Yuri’s hands wouldn’t be too cold if the heating didn’t work.

He parked the car and returned to his flat with a taxi.

It was almost 4 when his phone rang.

“I need you to pick me up at my place 5 on the dot”, Yuri said, his voice strident. He must be in company if he didn’t even say hello. “Not a minute later.”

“Affirmative”, Otabek said. “Shall I wait with the car or come upstairs to pick you up?”

Yuri sighed dramatically. “Downstairs of course. If I wanted you to get on my nerves I would have told you right away, jerk.” He hung up immediately.

Otabek sighed. It didn’t exactly hurt to have Yuri talk to him like that. He was supposed to do that. It was good that he did that. But it left a bitter taste on Otabek’s tongue.

He rose his hand and placed it on his chest. The band aid with the cats on it still was there, wrapped around his ring finger. He could feel the edge of the warm bronze pendant pressing against his skin. It was calming, the tension in his shoulders and heart disappearing immediately. He knew Yuri loved him. He would never forget it. He would never doubt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did A LOT of research on the most sold cars in Moscow, but I couldn't have Yuri drive those ugly things they sold back in the 90s and gave him a Golf 3 instead lol Hope you don't mind ^^  
> Check out my tumblr for a layout of Yuri's apartment [HERE](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/169205725719/katyushas-apartment-from-midnight-in-moscow)
> 
> Also, I would really love to see you are still reading. Apart from my usual honeys who comment on every single chapter which I am super thankful for I suspect there are some people reading this silently and it would be an enormous encouragement if you'd drop me a line. Really, anything is okay, basically, it's just that I've been kinda frustrated with this and it would help me to see if someone else is around. I appreciate every single comment, seriously.
> 
> Thank you and happy new year!! <3


	31. What lies within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you so much for the awesome feedback on the last chapter!! It made me SO incredibly happy and it was so nice to see people really seem to like this story. Thanks to everyone who supported me throughout the story, leaving comments regularly and thank you to those who were brave and came out of the dark to drop a line for me. Also thank you to those who write me on tumblr or twitter, I love you guys and I hope I can show it by giving my best writing this story.

He had changed into his suit again, a white shirt this time so that people wouldn’t think he wore the same outfit as this morning. He struggled scratching a little of the dark blue paint from his right index finger, but managed in the end. The fingertip was reddened once he was finished though.

He arrived at Yuri’s place five minutes before 5, parked the bike in a corner and secured the helmet to the lock as well. He was just finished when the door opened and Yuri appeared out of it.

Otabek clenched his teeth so his jaw wouldn’t drop when he saw Yuri. He wore a long black fur coat, black velvet heels and a dress that was not a dress but a flowing, shimmering light pink mist, a ruffled sunrise held around Yuri’s slender hips by an ornament of glittering crystals. His hair was in a high bun, neat and straight with only one curly strand purposely falling over his shoulder.

He shot Otabek a glance under dark golden lashes that made his heart beat faster. It was a sharp look, but there was something in it, something tender. With a frown he hurried over there when Yuri unlocked the R8 and opened the door for him.

“You look very beautiful”, he confessed, hoping that it was neutral enough to say that when he wanted nothing more than stare for hours at this most gorgeous creature that had ever lived on their planet.

With a smirk Yuri handed him the key to the Audi. “I know”, then he got in the passenger seat.

Otabek closed the door carefully, then hurried to the driver’s side. When he got in Yuri had leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest and his head turned to the side so his bun wouldn’t be messed up by the headrest.

“Where are we going?”, Otabek asked, fastening his seatbelt. 

“Ballet”, Yuri answered, then leaned forward to type the address into the navigation system while Otabek started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “It’s Irin’s first performance, so it’s quite the big deal for her and her family. And me”, he added with a smile.

Otabek remembered that Irina was one of Orlov’s daughters. She and her sister Elena had often been compared to Maksim’s little girls, so he supposed they were around the same age. “Is she the older one?”, he asked. 

Yuri leaned back. “Yeah, she’s six”, he said over the navigation’s instruction to turn left. “Elen is four.”

“Does she dance, too?”

At that Yuri laughed like it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. “She hates ballet. Anatolij and Svetlana Ivanova tried to talk her into it but she absolutely refuses to even try. She wants to be a hairdresser.” He smiled affectionately. “Maybe in some years I can convince her to give it a shot. I think she just doesn’t want to be compared to her sister all the time. Some time ago the nanny found her in the bathroom cutting her own hair short with her child’s scissors. It was a disaster.” His chuckle sounded so soft and tender it made Otabek smile.

“They are like sisters for you”, he guessed and Yuri blushed a little.

“Yes, they are. I always wondered what it is like to have siblings and they are so cute and good little girls, although of course they cause chaos once in awhile. I really love them. And vice versa I think.”

Otabek hummed, his eyes on the traffic.

They were silent for some minutes. Yuri seemed lost in thoughts, so Otabek didn’t interrupt him. In his pocket the key to the car he had bought for Yuri felt like it was glowing, pressing into his thigh heavy and hot. He’d have to wait for the right moment to explain the matter to Yuri. From what it looked like Yuri’s coat didn't even have pockets so it was impossible to give him the key now. He’d have to wait.

Only when Otabek looked over to Yuri to check for a handbag or something he noticed the small box on Yuri’s lap. It was wrapped in red paper with the outlines of golden roses shimmering in the streetlights they passed by.

The blonde noticed the look and smiled again. “That’s for Irin. She plays Princess Aurora but she didn’t like the crown they gave her so I bought her another one. I thought it would be nice to give it to her as a surprise. I hope she’ll like it.”

“I’m sure she will love it.”

The parking lot was relatively full when they arrived at the Pushkin Drama Theatre, quite an amount of fancy cars parked close to the back entry. Among them was a black Audi Q7, most likely one of Orlov’s cars. Otabek parked next to it and went to open the door for Yuri. When he held his hand out Yuri took it with the slightest smile.

“Thank you”, he said, in the same low, soft voice he always did, but it seemed to Otabek that everytime he looked down on him, Yuri’s slender, fragile hand in his and his eyes shimmering like crystals, he fell in love all over again.

Yuri stood, but didn’t let go of Otabek’s hand. Instead he turned it to look down on the band aid around his ring finger. “You still have that on?”, he asked, trying not to smile too openly. It was possible that someone watched them after all.

“Of course”, Otabek answered, almost a whisper. “It cured me.”

Yuri exhaled, a mixture of a laugh and a sigh, then let go of Otabek’s hand. “Do you come inside? I can introduce you to the girls and Svetlana Ivanova.”

“Wouldn’t it be inappropriate?”, Otabek objected. “I’m your driver, not someone you introduce to your family.”

At the last part Yuri shot him a glance that seemed almost hurt. The impression was gone after a split second. “I suppose Artjom is here, too. Also, Sergej would not have waited in the car, it would be awkward to  _ not _ have you watch the performance.”

“As you wish”, Otabek said, earning a frown from Yuri but he didn’t say anything else and headed over to the theatre’s entrance door, Otabek tagging along after he had locked the car.

It was getting dark already although it was not long after 5 pm. The heels of Yuri’s shoes were loud on the pavement and the wind made the curled strand of hair and the seam of the light pink of the dress dance in the wind. As much as Otabek wanted to watch Yuri approach the brightly lit entrance of the theatre, the vision enchanting like from a dream, he didn’t fail to notice a few people scattered around the door, likely parents of other girls taking part in the performance, some smoking cigarettes and cigars, some in conversation with other parents. 

Otabek fought back a frown when he spotted the two men a few meters away and close to the wall where the lamps from the theatre didn’t provide enough light to keep the shadows on their faces at bay. They were silent, both with cigarettes, dressed formally, one looking over to the cars, one watching Yuri and him. They were not exactly suspicious, but they didn’t look like they had daughters doing ballet either. And they certainly didn’t look like they were here to watch little girls perform Sleeping Beauty for fun. Otabek looked away, their faces burnt into his mind already. Maybe he was paranoid, but the two figures sent a shiver down his spine. They actually looked so unremarkable, and Otabek would bet no one would even remember they had been there after losing sight of them, but the way they tried to be invisible and blend into the chattering groups scattered around the door made them obtrusive to Otabek’s perception. They were a little too ordinary, a little too quiet, a little too far away in the dark. Something was definitely going on. That or he was seeing ghosts.

He held the glass door open for Yuri, his mind still trying to make sense of the two men as he stepped into the crowded lobby when all of a sudden he heard a shriek and saw a fast motion coming their way. His heart stopped for a second and his hand twitched toward the gun sitting in the holster close to his chest when he realized it was only a little blonde girl jumping at Yuri.

“Katcha!!”, the girl squealed and Yuri bent down and collected the whirlwind in his arms.

“Irin!”, he laughed and groaned in the girl’s brutal embrace, hugging her back nevertheless. “You’re choking me!”

The girl held onto Yuri for a second more, then let go of him with the brightest smile. “I’m so glad you came!”, she said, then took a step back and looked Yuri up and down. “You look beautiful”, Irina said, her cheeks flushed with astonishment.

The dress Yuri wore looked so similar to the girl’s dress, pastel pink silk frills over a puffy tutu, it couldn’t be a coincidence. And the way Yuri’s hair was pinned up resembled Irina’s hairstyle as well, only the one free curl missing from the girl’s hairdo. Otabek had never thought there was someone with the same bright golden hair as Yuri’s but he found that Irina looked a lot like she was really Yuri’s little sister, only her eyes a bright blue instead of the mesmerizing green.

“You too, princess.” With that Yuri held out the small box. “That’s for you.”

The girl took it happily. “Can I open it now?”

“You have to!”, Yuri insisted with a smile and she carefully loosened the adhesive tape from the red and gold paper.

From the corner of his eyes Otabek saw someone coming their way through the lobby swarming with people and when he looked up he spotted Orlov, dressed in a dark gray suit with a light gray shirt and an elegant blonde lady in a black dress with the brightest red lipstick Otabek had ever seen that made her blue eyes stand out like sapphires. On Orlov’s hand he saw another girl, smaller, with a blonde pixie haircut and a hairbow the same color as her frilly baby blue dress - Elena.

Otabek nodded at them wordlessly and Orlov returned the greeting. The lady, unmistakably the girls’ mother, gave him a piercing look, then turned her attention to little Irina who had unwrapped the gift and opened the small box.

The girl’s eyes shimmered as she took a small crown out of the box, light pink gems embedded in a curlicued golden framework.

“Mama, Papa, look!”, she exclaimed, turning around and holding the crown out to her parents. “Katcha gave me a crown! Isn’t it beautiful!”

The woman smiled and nodded. “Very beautiful, my dear.”

Irina turned around to jump at Yuri again who helped her clipping the crown to her hair when she had finally let go of him again.

“Now you look like a real princess”, Yuri said contently and Irina beamed him a gleeful smile before turning around to her sister, who eyed her sister’s excitement sceptically.

Yuri straightened again and greeted the mother with a barely there kiss on her right hand, then Orlov with a chaste kiss on his mouth, then little Elena, petting her blonde hair.

“This is Erasyl”, he said, gesturing to Otabek, “my new driver. Erasyl, this is Miss Svetlana Ivanova.”

“Pleased to meet you”, Otabek said, taking the offered hand and mimicking a kiss a centimeter away from the knuckle subserviently. 

“I heard about Sergej Vladimirovich”, she said to Yuri, paying Otabek no attention. “It must be hard for you to get used to someone new. Especially someone…”, she eyed Otabek with cold blue eyes, “foreign.”

Yuri didn’t have the opportunity to comment on that when Elena, still clinging to her father’s hand, asked: “What happened to Sergej Vladimirovich?”

“He went to a place far away from here”, Yuri said softly, making the girl frown.

“Will he come back?”

“No, Elen, he will stay there.”

A triumphant smirk showed on the tiny girl’s face. “Good. I hate him. He stinks!”

“Elen, behave!”, Irina elbowed her side, but the grin on the younger sister’s face only grew bigger.

“He wasn’t nice. And he had stupid hair and was loud”, Elena said, then looked up to Otabek. “Are you nice?”

For a moment Otabek was perplex, then he nodded. “I’m certainly nicer than Sergej, Lady Elena, and I’m not loud. I’m not sure about my hair, though.”

“It’s fine”, she said, let go of her father’s hand and held hers out for Otabek to kiss. “Your name is strange. I shall call you Silya instead.” Otabek bit back a smile and kissed her tiny hand, aware of her father’s and Yuri’s chuckle.

“I’ll call you Silya, too”, Irina said with a grin and pushed Elena’s hand aside to hold hers out for Otabek to kiss as well.

Otabek did as expected, then stood straight again only to find Miss Orlova scowling at him. He pretended it didn’t happen and stepped back, looking around.

“We should go get you ready”, the mother said and Irina answered with a “Yes, Mama”, then addressed Yuri again: “Katcha, you have to look at me all the time, okay? I will dance the best I can!”

“Sure thing”, Yuri encouraged her, “I won’t take my eyes of you, princess. Now go and do your magic.”

Irina laughed high as a chime and pulled her mother down the hallway, her tutu bouncing like petals on a flower in a summer breeze.

Yuri sent Otabek over to the cloakroom with his coat, revealing the entirety of his pale pink dress and one naked shoulder when shrugging off the fluffy black coat. Orlov smiled at him, brushing his fingertips over Yuri’s prominent collarbone. Witnessing this Otabek turned away to have the coat and his own jacket stored away. The way Orlov touched Yuri so intimately made his stomach turn. But the softness of the touch and the affection in it was impossible to ignore. 

He handed the coat over to the lady at the desk and grit his teeth. He hated the way Orlov looked at Yuri and he hated it even more how he touched him. No matter how gentle and honest he was or how much everything looked like he genuinely loved Yuri it hurt to think that there was nothing Yuri could do to avoid it. He was in Orlov’s hands. Maybe he didn’t mind the touches, the gentle kisses, maybe he didn’t even mind when Orlov used him or when he gave him away to his friends, but Otabek did mind and it hurt to think that there was no way anyone could do something about Yuri’s situation. Not even Orlov’s wife seemed to have a say in that matter. Otabek couldn’t imagine she was happy that her husband had such a beautiful boy who took her place in the sheets. The fact that Yuri looked indeed like he belonged to the family must make it even harder for her. Svetlana Ivanova was a beautiful woman, that was for sure, her hair a luscious blonde, her skin fair and her features dainty. Otabek guessed she was in her late forties and for a woman her age she was beyond attractive. But it was like comparing a rose that started losing its petals and one that was only just blooming, morning dew glittering in the first rays of sunlight. Yuri was young. He not only combined every aspect that made her attractive, but exaggerated it: His hair wasn’t blonde, it was a waterfall of liquid gold cascading down his back or crowning him like spun sunlight. His skin wasn’t only fair but as smooth and flawless as porcelain, his face of angelic beauty, his movements gracious as a cat’s, his eyes-

Otabek exhaled shakily. On the other end of the hall Orlov had placed a hand on Yuri’s tiny waist, Elena obliviously tracing the pattern of the marble floor with her little fingers right next to them.

_ “He looks so much like them” _ , Erasyl whispered in this head.  _ “Like his wife, like his little daughters. Boris said he has him call him Daddy when they do it. Isn’t that sick? He uses the boy who looks like his daughters and makes him call him Daddy.” _

Otabek’s fists hurt from clenching as he stared over to them. Orlov said something that made Yuri laugh and lean in, placing a kiss on his lips. He looked calm but Otabek could see how tense his shoulders were, if only for a moment.

_ “You have to get him out of here” _ , Erasyl pressed.  _ “Out of this theatre, out of Moscow, out of Orlov’s reach. You have to save him. You promised.” _

“I know”, he hissed, angry but helpless. He didn’t know how. He  _ still _ didn’t know how!

There was so much going on in his heart and his head but he pushed it back into the gaping hole in his chest as he returned to Yuri, Orlov and the girl.

Orlov led them over to the bar, getting a glass of cranberry juice for Elena and two glasses of champagne for Yuri and himself. When he turned to Otabek, he hesitated.

“You don’t drink alcohol, do I remember that correctly?”, he asked. 

Otabek nodded. “That is correct, Sir.” He was about to decline any offer but like earlier Elena cut in.

“You can have juice”, she said, holding her glass with both hands. “Irin drinks orange juice, but I love cranberry juice. Tomato juice is tasty as well. But I like sour things. Do you like sour things, Silya?”

Otabek thought for a moment. “Actually I don’t think I ever tried cranberry juice before”, he said slowly. 

Elena turned to the bartender. “One glass of cranberry juice for my friend here, please”, she said like she owned the place. The bartender shot Orlov a glance, who nodded, then Otabek, who nodded as well, and poured another glass.

The juice was sour. Really, really sour. It made Otabek press his tongue against his palate and shake a little, which caused Orlov to laugh. Elena sipped on her glass very unimpressed.

Artjom waited by their seats, his phone pressed to his ear. When he saw them coming he hung up and greeted Yuri and Otabek.

They took their seats, Elena insisting on sitting next to Yuri. A few moments before the lights were dimmed the mother joined them, sitting down next to her husband.

“How is she?”, Yuri asked, obviously referring to Irina.

The mother shrugged. “Fine. A little nervous. She’ll be okay.” She gave Otabek a look that sent shivers down his spine, then the lights dimmed and the voices filling the room died down.

The children didn’t dance the entire ballet. It would have been too hard, even considering they didn’t wear pointe shoes. The choreography was traditional but shortened to a little less than an hour. Irina did well, her movements gracious. It made her look older than her age and, as Otabek noticed with a lump in his throat, it made her look like little Yuri. She reminded him of the summer camp back then when it all began, what seemed like another life. Back when Yuri had been so strong and yet so pure. Otabek looked over to him, to the smile that was so proud as he watched this little girl dancing so beautifully on the illuminated stage. He was still so strong and still so pure. There was so much longing in his eyes though as he followed Irina’s movements, and for a moment Otabek thought he saw a deep sadness in Yuri’s eyes. He wanted to kiss him, pull him into his arms and promise that everything would be alright in the end. Tell him that he had to endure just a little longer. Tell him that if it was necessary he’d rather die than have Yuri suffer in this golden cage much longer.

_ “You have to save him” _ , Erasyl whispered in the back of his head or in the back of his heart, Otabek couldn’t tell.

The light shimmered on Yuri’s silky lips. Behind him the darkness spread, making the audience almost invisible, their faces turned up to the stage where the prince, a gorgeous little boy with wild auburn curls escaping his lopsided hat, kneeled down to wake the princess up. The light dimming into a soft pink outlined the profiles of the parents and grandparents, sisters and cousins and it reflected in a pair of piercing eyes in the far back of the theatre looking his way. Even in the almost dark of the circles so far from the stage recognition stung like a stab in the pit of his stomach when Otabek realized it was one on the men from outside. The man seemed to stare at him for a second, then said something to his companion who sat next to him in the seats closest to the exit. They both got up and left the room. The heavy door fell shut, locking the light from the lobby out just as the audience started applauding because the princess was saved. It made the hairs on Otabek’s arms and back stand upright. He turned to the stage with a frown, started to clap as well when the little dancers bowed, but his thoughts lingered in the dark corners of the room even when the lights came back on.

He had a bad feeling.

Irina seemed relaxed when she joined them in the lobby a few minutes after the show. “Did you watch me?”, she asked Yuri and he nodded.

“Of course, princess. You did so well! I’m so proud of you.” He collected the giggling girl in his arms and Elena stepped closer to get a hug as well. “I’m so proud of both of you.”

The mother didn’t give them much time to enjoy the closeness when with a strict voice she said: “We should head home soon, Oksana is waiting with supper for us.” She held her hands out and the girls took one each. “Do you and your… _ Erasyl _ … want to join us for dinner?”, she asked, spitting the name out like it was an insult.

Otabek was relieved when Yuri shook his head. “I have an appointment tonight”, he replied, not specifying what kind of appointment it was, so Orlov asked:

“Will you be at the Nightshade?”

“Tomorrow.” Yuri smiled at him. “Tonight I go to see Eva Mikhailova.”

“I see”, Orlov said, his voice pensive, then added: “Be careful.”

Yuri nodded with a soft smile.

Artjom came back with the Orlov family’s coats and helped the lady in hers. After Orlov had kissed Yuri good-bye their ways parted, the girls waving their little hands at them and Yuri waving back, Otabek nodding his head silently. When they were gone Yuri’s smile vanished and he sighed.

“I think she hates you”, he confessed, turning to Otabek with pained expression and Otabek knew that he referred to Orlov’s wife.

“Yes”, he agreed, “I had the impression.”

“Sorry you had to go through this. I knew she was kind of xenophobic but I thought it was only about the Chinese. Then again she can probably not tell Chinese from Koreans. Or Kazakhs in this case”, Yuri said strolling over to the bar, ordering a glass of vodka. “Can I treat you to something to make up for her death glares?”

“No, thank you.”

“Not even a cranberry juice?” The smirk on Yuri’s face was naughty and beautiful. “You seemed to enjoy it earlier…”

“Did I?” Otabek asked, maintaining a blank expression.

“You looked like you were about to spit it out only for a second or so.” Yuri chuckled and shrugged, then knocked back the double shot and licked his lips. “We should get going too, I have to change before my appointment.”

Otabek nodded and lead the way to the cloakroom. Most people had picked up their jackets already so there wasn’t even a long line in front of the counter. “What kind of appointment is it?”, he asked when the staff handed him their coats. He turned around and saw that Yuri had a blush coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I’d rather not talk about that in public”, he said, lowering his eyes.

Otabek nodded and helped Yuri into his coat, careful not to touch the pale skin of Yuri’s skinny shoulder.

It was cold outside, the wind blowing harder than when they had arrived. Most of the cars had disappeared from the parking lot already, only a few scattered here and there.

Otabek helped Yuri into the R8, closing the door carefully, then circling the car again. The wind tug on his hair and collar, whistling in his ear. Just when he was about to open the door his eyes fell on a dark car facing the R8 a few parking spaces away. He pretended not to lok there too obviously but he swore he could see two people sitting in the car, watching them. He got into the Audi but before he could start the engine and switch on the headlights to see if his suspicion proved right the car pulled out of the parking lot and drove away. Otabek clenched his teeth and watched it disappear. There was no license plate.

“What’s wrong?”, Yuri asked. His voice sounded worried, but Otabek shook his head.

“Nothing”, he murmured and fastened his seat belt. He didn’t want to worry Yuri over something he probably just imagined. “I just thought I saw someone I recognized. Must be seeing things.”

Yuri hummed and Otabek started the car.

The drive back to Yuri’s apartment was halfway over before Yuri spoke again.

“Can you come upstairs?”, he asked, almost shyly. “I need help with the dress.”

“As you wish”, Otabek agreed. It started raining a little and he switched the wiper on interval.

“Eva Mikhailova is the wife of Gennady Sergejevich Belyj”, Yuri spoke into the silence. “He was in the KGB with Anatolij’s uncle and the Orlovs owe him a lot. When I got introduced to them on Anatolij’s birthday a few years ago Eva Mikhailova kind of… came to like me and she convinced Gennady Sergejevich to pay for me the next night.” Yuri’s shoulders hung when Otabek looked over to him, like he wanted to disappear in the seat. “She asks for my...  _ ‘services’ _ about once a month. Anatolij doesn’t like it but he can’t refuse Gennady Sergejevich. At least it’s only her I have to… oblige…”

Otabek swallowed. “Do they hurt you?” If the answer was “yes” he’d kill them both tonight with his bare hands.

But Yuri shook his head. “She’s really gentle. I think she really fell in love with me back then. She wouldn’t ever hurt me.”

“What about him?”

“He only watches from the sofa… pleasuring himself. He rarely touches me.” Yuri wriggled in the seat and looked over to him. “Maybe he will ask you to join him. Sergej used to take the offer…”

Otabek’s voice had an edge when he replied: “I would never do that to you.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you took his place.” It was low but honest. It made Otabek even angrier and he couldn’t even put the finger on what made him so angry. Maybe it was everything. Everything and everyone in this disgusting, filthy city.

The tension didn’t vanish when they arrived at Yuri’s apartment. The ride on the elevator was silent and Otabek followed Yuri into his brightly lit apartment, the boy tossing his coat over the backrest of the couch carelessly and loosening his bun. His hair fell around his skinny shoulders in big golden curls that bobbed with every step he took on the stairs that led to the upper floor.

When Yuri had led him to the closet he turned around to Otabek. “There’s something I want to show you”, he whispered like he was afraid the darkness outside could eavesdrop. Then he opened the door to the closet and pushed some hangers loaded with velvet and satin aside.

Otabek saw Yuri disappear between the layers of luxurious fabric and pushed them aside to take a look himself. On the far left Yuri had pressed a wooden board open, like a narrow doorway that led through the closet.

“It’s the secret stairway”, Yuri explained. “It leads down a few floors and into the building next door. Then there’s an elevator, an old thing with no cameras and a detached electric circuit. I can sneak out there without anyone noticing.” He bit his lip and looked at Otabek, the excitement shining in his eyes despite the darkness between thick, soft fabric.

Otabek exhaled shakily and dug into his pocket. “Here”, he whispered back, holding out the key of the old VW. “I bought that for you. The car is in the underground car park of the bank across the street. I can show you the place.”

“Otabek”, Yuri whispered. He sounded like he was close to tears. With thin fingers he picked the key up from Otabek’s palm.

“I will hide a key to my room so you can come to me anytime. I will leave the bolts open.”

“That’s dangerous”, Yuri whispered, clutching the old key like it was a treasure.

“I know”, he confessed. “But that’s the only way. I can not lock you out.”

Yuri was in his arms the blink of an eye later. His arms wrapped around Otabek’s shoulders, the blonde curls were everywhere. Otabek pulled him closer, burying his nose in the golden mess, then kissed Yuri’s head.

“Promise me you don’t let them see you”, he begged Yuri and the boy nodded rapidly. It made the tension in Otabek faint a little. With a sigh he held Yuri for another moment, then let go of him. “I’ll find a way”, he promised. “I just need more time. I’m sorry.”

Yuri bit his lower lip and shook his head, then hid his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck. Otabek couldn’t say if he was crying. That way or the other all he could do was hold him tight.

 

**и**

  
  


Gennady Sergejevich Belyj did offer Otabek to join them. 

When the servant had opened the door it took mere seconds until the man appeared in a door at the end of the corridor. He was older than Otabek had expected, over 60 for sure, his hair white and his beard well-groomed. He looked elegant in his dark blue robe but Otabek hated everything about him. Eva Mikhailova on the contrary was way younger than Otabek had pictured her. She must be at least 25 years her husband’s junior, or maybe it was the gleam in her eyes that made her look almost juvenile when she spotted Yuri.

“Katyusha”, she practically sang and hurried over to them, looking him up and down.

Yuri had changed into a black suit that looked similar to Otabek’s just a thousand times more expensive if the shimmer of the fabric was anything to go by. His hair was braided and draped over his shoulder, the curls from his earlier hairdo making it thick and squiggled.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here.” With that she placed her hand on Yuri’s cheek and kissed him passionately. Yuri immediately fell into his role, kissing her back with no less fire, his hands holding her by the waist.

“I missed you”, she whispered against his lips, blushing and Yuri smiled.

“I missed you too, my love.”

Otabek’s stomach turned.

“Is this a friend of yours?”, she asked, looking over to Otabek who had merely intended to escort Yuri inside. She leaned into Yuri’s embrace and it looked so loving that Otabek could have thought they were a couple for real. It was terrifying how convincing Yuri’s act was.

“My new driver, the substitute for Sergej”, Yuri explained and kissed her forehead.

“He should join us”, Belyj suggested with a wide smile. “The more the merrier. And there’s nothing like the sight of two so beautiful creatures in the act of love!”

Otabek grit his teeth and bowed slightly. “I am flattered by the offer”, he sad with as much self-control as he could summon, his voice a deep growl. “But my religion forbids me any attendance in deeds of fruitless pleasure. I must retreat.”

“Oh what a pity!”, the man said. “But how do they say: Let every man seek heaven in his own fashion.” He gestured to the door they had appeared from. “Let’s get you inside, Katyusha and out of those uncomfortable clothes.”

With a last reassuring glance Yuri turned away and followed the man, his wife still clinging to him like a tick.

The servant closed the door behind Otabek who felt like he was about to throw up into the pittoresque flower bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting darker it seems. Finally I had Orlov's family show up and finally I had Yuri doing his 'appointment' with Eva Mikhailovich (I had that planned from the beginning, some of you might remember the M/F tag some months ago ^^)  
> If you'd leave comments and/or kudos it would make me REALLY happy (as experience shows ;D ) but feel free to drop by my [tumblr](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/) , too. It'll have pictures of Yuri's dress and the actress I modeled Miss Orlova after.


	32. two-faced angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late again! And sorry that it will most likely get worse, because I'll have my exams soon. I guess that in mid-feb it'll get better though ^^  
> Also thank you everyone who headed over to read strawberry sundae, I really had a lot of fun writing this little piece of fluff. On the contrary this chapter will be the worst so far, at least when it comes to Otabek's condition. I hope you'll survive it. ^^'

It was dark and it was cold. It had started raining hard after an hour. It had stopped again after another.

Otabek sat in the car motionless. To anybody else it would have looked like he was calm. At peace even. He couldn’t be more upset. 

In his head, in his insides there was a turmoil, a chaos black and sharp and boiling. A maelstrom of anger, pain, worry, disgust and emotions he didn’t even know how to name. He tried to fight back the images before his inner eye. Images of Yuri, so pretty, so fragile. Yuri on his back. Yuri on his knees. Yuri being touched and being watched. Yuri being used by the woman, by the man, by both of them. They humiliated him. They stained him. They used him. It was like the photos, the photos Sergej had collected. Just that it was real, that it was happening. Right now. Just a few meters away. A short sprint through the rain. A knock on the door. A bullet in the butlers head. Then running down the hallway. Kicking the door open. Yuri was there, on the sofa, naked, white, his hair tangled, his eyed wet from tears. He was looking at Otabek surprised while  _ he was still inside her _ . A bullet in the man’s head. He sank back into the seat, his hand still around his dick. A bullet in the woman’s head. She didn’t even have time to scream. Yuri let go of her. Yuri  _ looked _ at him and the tears fell from his eyes and Otabek would hold him and everything would be  _ over _ . It would only take two minutes and  _ everything would be over _ .  _ He’d save Yuri. He’d make them go away forever. _ The man and his wife. But only the man and his wife.  _ It could be the end _ . But it could be the end to everything _. _

“ _ You’ll ruin everything _ ”, he sobbed into the darkness. “ _ They’ll come and they will take him away from you _ .”

“But I can’t let them do that to him. I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“ _ There’s nothing you can do- _ ”

“I know!”

“ _ It hurts. _ ”

“It hurts.”

The gun was in his hands, dark and heavy and warm. He bent over and cried. Tears fell onto the metal. The edges shone when a car passed by, then it was dark again.

There was a streetlamp a little farther down the street, but its light made the darkness only seem darker.

“I hate you”, Otabek whispered. He couldn’t tell if he hated Erasyl or Otabek. It didn’t really matter.

After another hour or so his fingers felt stiff around the gun. He placed it on the passenger seat and when he flexed his fingers the band aid was still there. He had kept it there because it had meant something. Now he wasn’t sure what it meant. Maybe it was the wound underneath it that meant something.

He scratched the scab away until it bled again. The bandaid sat in his pocket where the keys for the old car had been.

Back when he had woken up from the coma he had been to a speech therapist. He hadn’t been able to speak clearly, even after breathing and swallowing worked fine again. It had been hard and he had been frustrated easily. “Find something that calms you”, she had said when he had been on the verge of tears, because he couldn’t pronounce things correctly. “It can be anything. Even a meaningless thing. The shape of a bottle. The sound of the refrigerator. Turning a coin in your fingers. Focus on that. Make it the most important thing there is until it’s a part of you. Think of the bottle. Turn the coin. Again and again. When it’s a familiar thing it can calm you down and make it easier to deal with your inner turmoil.”

So he found something. He took the gun apart. Broke it down piece after piece. Then built it back together again. Then took it apart again. Put it back together.

The image of Yuri was still there. His lips when he had kissed the woman. The sway of his hips when he had left. The smile he gave Orlov. The high chuckle. His hands, grasping Alexey Zavgorodniy’s sleeve. His voice trembling when he said “Daddy”. His breath on Otabek’s lips, sweet like berries and poignant like vodka. His eyes closing when he leaned into Orlov’s embrace. Jessenin’s hands on the fragile body. The woman kissing him.

He took the gun apart. He put it back together.

The mental image of her holding Yuri in her arms hurt, so when his finger stopped bleeding he scratched the wound open again. It hurt, but not enough to distract him.

He took the gun apart and put it back together.

She loved him, that much was obvious. And Yuri let her. He let this stranger love him. He had let Sergej love him. He had let Jessenin love him. He let Orlov love him. He let Otabek love him. Everyone loved Yuri and it was no wonder. He was beautiful. He was gorgeous. He was so easy to have. And at the same time he wasn’t. He was easy to have for those who could afford him. Orlov and Jessenin and the woman. They had money and they had status. They were in a position where no one could stop them. They could use Yuri- no! They could use Katyusha.  _ They used Katyusha _ . But did they? Could Yuri really get away unharmed? How deep did the abuse dig? How much did Katyusha take and how much Yuri? Did he filter? And how? With ignorance? With drugs? With strength?

Otabek took the gun apart, then put it back together. He didn’t even have to look. It happened automatically.

There were two kinds of people. The ones who loved Yuri and took him. And the ones who loved Yuri and kept their hands off him. The second category had much less persons: Otabek and Zhenya. The only two persons in the world who were scared to devour Yuri alive. Scared and honest. But at the same time not honest at all. Because Otabek knew that he wanted Yuri. He wanted him, he needed him and yearned for him so much,  _ so much _ . He wanted Yuri so much that he could never just take him because it would hurt them both. He’d rather kill himself than do anything that might hurt Yuri. Maybe in a way Zhenya felt similar. He didn’t want to tell Yuri, because he knew Yuri liked him and still had to reject him. It would hurt them both. So he kept quiet about it, about his love that was so innocent and so insane. Just like Otabek’s.

The thought made him smile. He was. He was insane. But that was okay. Because only that made him endure the pain. He was insane enough to still be in love even when it was slowly killing him.

The light of a car made brought him back from his thoughts. His hands that had just loaded the magazine into the gun stopped as he looked up. The headlights of the car died, but the vehicle itself drove for a few more meters before stopping on the other side of the street, just far enough away that Otabek could see there was no license plate.

The breath caught in his throat but he managed to not panic. Instead he kept watching.

Nobody got off the car as it stood there like it had been there all the time, blending into the upper class neighborhood. There were a few other cars parked along the street here and there, a motorbike even on Otabek’s side of the street, sheltered from the rain by a heavy tarp cover. There was no evidence the by now familiar car didn’t belong here. The street lamp didn’t illuminate the passenger either. Otabek could only guess that there were two people inside. On the other hand it was good that the lamp was so dim; that way they couldn’t tell that he was watching them either. He’d just have to make sure it remained that way.

Slowly, very slowly because any hasty movement could reveal his position he sank deeper into the seat. The gun felt like a shield more than like a weapon in his hands.

After some minutes Otabek saw a lighter going off in the other car. The shine wasn’t bright enough to let him make out the faces of the driver when he lit a cigarette or when he held it out to the passenger to light one as well. It wasn’t necessary though, he had memorized their faces from the ballet anyway. He would recognize them anywhere by now.

The two guys smoked their cigarettes, the orange glow brightening with every draw, then fading again. It was ghostly and Otabek wished he had one too although he had quit and knew that it would be the most idiotic thing to give away his position. He wished for something to calm him down. He couldn’t take the gun apart in that situation though. It would calm him but it was too risky. If Yuri came out of the house now and those guys started something he had no second to waste. He couldn’t contact Yuri either. The light of the screen could attract their attention. He’d have to wait. Wait and see what happened, _ if _ something happened.

Minutes became an hour as Otabek sat there, motionless. He kept his eyes on the car. In his thoughts he took the gun apart and put it back together again. Sometimes he let the index finger of his right hand touch the wound on his left ring finger. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but the wound felt wet and hurt when he pressed his fingertip into the injured flesh.

After what felt like forever and the fifth cigarette the guys had smoked the headlights came back on and the car sprung to life. Otabek ducked away when the car passed by the R8, staying in his position until his back cramped to make sure the plateless car was out of sight.

Only when he sat back up again he realized he was breathing. Checking his smartphone he saw that it was three in the morning already. Yuri had been in there for more than six hours now. The other car likely had been there for almost two hours.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how working as a driver for a bratva personality was. He had no idea if he should contact Yuri or Orlov about this incidence. He didn’t want to scare Yuri. And he didn’t want to call Orlov and make clear that he had no idea what he was doing in his new job. But at the same time he was freaking out about those guys who had followed Yuri and him around for- how long even? Sure, Otabek had spotted them in front of the theatre for the first time, but it would be stupid to assume that it was in fact the first time they had been watching them. Maybe they had been on their track for much longer already. And realizing that he felt he was indeed panicking now.

What could they have seen? And who could have sent them? Orlov's wife, jealous of Yuri’s beauty? Another bratva’s vor, wanting Yuri dead to deal Orlov a serious blow? Someone who wanted Katyusha, one of the most exclusive prostitutes in Moscow, for themselves? Someone who loved Yuri but had been rejected, or even someone who could never reach Yuri and wanted to steal him, very much like Otabek wanted to steal Yuri for himself? Maybe they were paid to kill Yuri. Maybe they had been hired to kidnap him. Maybe they were insane enough to try. 

And Otabek didn’t know what to do. It seemed like the fragile framework of his made-up backstory that had brought him here was collapsing eventually, revealing that he was not a member of the clan and therefore not capable of serving Yuri. He didn’t know how to react now, couldn’t imagine how Sergej would have reacted in his position. Or maybe he did, because Sergej would have taken the offer of  Belyj and had joined him in his abusive procedure. Sergej would have never noticed the men in the dark car. He never would have had a chance do save Yuri from whoever those guys were. But he could. He could protect Yuri, if he just knew what to expect in such a situation. He knew just the person to ask about it.

Pushing the Grach back into the holster Otabek unlocked his phone. He had saved Artjom’s phone number earlier. He didn’t hesitate a second and hit the call icon.

Artjom picked up after half a dozen rings. “Erasyl”, he said, sounding tired but alarmed. “Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry for calling at that time of the night”, Otabek said, his voice low. “I have encountered a… situation that I need assistance with. If you have a minute I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“No problem, go ahead”, Artjom encouraged him. The ruffling of bed sheets could be heard in the background.

“I have not been trained to be a driver”, Otabek confessed. “I just happen to be good at driving is all. I am grateful for the position and I intend on fulfilling my duty as satisfactory as possible, but unfortunately I am not familiar with certain procedures.” He sighed. “No procedures at all, to be completely honest. At least those considering Katyusha.”

Artjom chuckled weakly on the other end of the line. “You sound very troubled. At least by your standards.”

“I am.”

“Well”, Artjom said slowly. “I’ve known Katyusha for some time now. Since Anatolij picked him up from his previous job actually. He was with the boss a lot, especially in the beginning, so I am very well aware of his habits and quirks. I can’t say I’ve driven him a lot lately with Sergej taking over, but I don’t assume too much has changed. So, let me give you some advices on how to handle the kitten. I suppose this doesn’t go around, so I can be honest with you.”

“Of course”, Otabek said, frowning.

“Okay, well…” Artjom sighed. “If you ask me the boy has some serious issues. I know he’s really a good one, deep inside, but Anatolij spoiled him and he can be quite bitchy sometimes. Kitten likes to show his claws once in awhile if you know what I mean. Don’t take that too serious, even if he gets naughty, he doesn’t mean it and you’ll get used to it. 

The thing is that he has some worrisome coping-mechanisms. I’m not even sure Anatolij is aware of it but the boy’s past left scars. He’s covering it up pretty thoroughly but if you catch him on the wrong foot he’ll break down pretty fast. 

Usually that happens when he takes drugs. Which, sadly, happens a lot.” He sighed again. “It’s a pity, really. In my opinion Anatolij should have never left him at the Nightshade without anyone keeping an eye on him for so long. The entire club is just a giant playground with everything Katyusha likes: Loud music, beautiful people and shitloads of cocaine and speed and what-not. As far as I now he’s not into the very hard stuff, H and meth and so on, but still, it affects him a lot. I think he just feels left alone, and, you know, actually that’s what he is. Not to talk you into babysitting him there or something, it’s just pretty scary to pick him up when his nose tip is still white. Had some…. not-so-nice drives to do when that happened. Just so you know. If he asks you to pull over you should do so immediately or Aljosha will rip your head off for having him vomit all over the car…” He chuckled. “Or so I have heard.”

Otabek couldn’t find that funny, but he mimicked a laugh anyway. “Sounds like a fun job.”

“Yeah, pretty much. But don’t let that discourage you, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon. You just have to say goodbye to a healthy sleeping schedule, but apparently you got that sorted out already.”

“Not much of a problem for me”, Otabek said. “There’s one thing though… You said that I don’t have to play the babysitter for Katyusha but… What if something happens to him? What if someone… I don’t know, threatens him or something?”

Artjom hummed. “Well, you are not his bodyguard. Not per definition at least.”

How could he know that that was exactly what Otabek wanted to be? “They say you took a bullet for Orlov”, he objected and again Artjom hummed.

“Losing him means losing my job”, he replied matter-of-factly. “It did something for my reputation as well.”

“I want to protect him”, Otabek said slowly. “Even if it wasn’t in the employment description.”

A stifled yawn was to be heard from the other end of the line. ”Feel free to do so, but I doubt anyone will be stupid enough to approach him. He’s Anatolij’s favourite and all Moscow knows. No one would dare to try something-”

“But what if?”, Otabek interrupted him.

Artjom was silent for a moment, before asking: “Erasyl, the reason you called… Has something happened?”

That question was hard to answer. He couldn’t be sure. Now that he thought about it maybe it was nothing. Sure there had been those guys at the ballet and the same car had shown up too often to be a coincidence. But maybe he was overreacting. Maybe the had even mistaken the car on the other side of the street for the one he had seen by the theatre. Maybe he was getting paranoid. Because in fact nothing had happened. The two persons he had watched in the car hadn’t done anything suspicious. They hadn’t even gotten out of the car. And the guys at the theatre hadn’t done anything either. Retrospective Otabek wasn’t even sure they had really looked their way. 

“No”, he finally answered. “I just wanted to make sure. Just in case…” His voice trailed off.

“Don’t worry too much”, Artjom said with an audible smile. “Your core competence should be driving and taking care of stoned kittens. Sergej managed that, so don’t lose any sleep over the job. I mean not more than you do already…” He chuckled then yawned. “Speaking of which…”

“Yeah, sorry”, Otabek murmured. “”I should let you sleep. Thank you a lot for your advice.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They hung up and Otabek stared at the display of his smartphone. It read 3:16. 

He was tired. Exhausted. He sighed and leaned back in the seat. After that much time apparently even the top-notch Audi seat became uncomfortable. He pushed the seat all back and stretched his legs, then his back. The spine popped and he let out a groan.

Staring into the night he thought of Yuri. He wondered what he was doing. He wondered if he was just as tired as Otabek was. He wondered if he thought of him just as much. How nice would it be to have him here now. Here or anywhere else. If just they would be together. He’d hold him close, cradling him in his arms. He’d bury his nose in the golden hair, inhaling Yuri’s wonderful scent. He’d kiss his forehead and the tips of his ears. Yuri would lean into his embrace and breathe against his skin. It’d be warm and soft and wonderful.

“ _ I miss you _ ”, Erasyl whispered into the silence.

 

**ж**

 

The rain had stopped but the windscreen was littered with raindrops.

Whenever Otabek thought he was about to fall asleep he scratched on his ring finger. The more often he did the more it hurt until a mere touch with his fingernail felt like he was cutting it off for real now. It didn’t bleed a lot anymore. His middle, ring and auricular finger of the left hand and the fingertips of the right hand were smeared with a half dried grimy mixture of blood and whatever liquid was oozing from the swollen wound. It looked as disgusting as it felt and he was glad once he could rinse it off.

At some point he had been hungry, not having eaten since his late lunch, but the feeling vanished with time. He thought that the thing he wished most for was to be home and fall onto his mattress. But looking over to the house he found that what he really wanted the most was to finally have Yuri walk out of that door.

The sky was turning from black to a steel blue when his phone rang. He fished it from his pocket and saw that it was Yuri.

“Yes”, he said when he had picked up. His voice sounded hoarse and weak.

Yuri’s voice was a whisper when he said: “I wanna go home.”

Otabek felt his heart break. “I’m waiting outside. I will take you home.”

Without another word the connection died. Otabek stared down at the phone again. It was after 5 a.m. The memory of Yuri’s voice echoed in his insides and made him bite his lip.

The lamp above the Belyis’ entrance door lit up and caught Otabek’s attention. Then the door opened and Yuri appeared.

With a start Otabek was fully awake again. Hastily he got out of the car, hurrying over to the porched stairs while looking around for the dark car from last night. It was nowhere to be seen but that didn’t mean the two guys weren’t maybe lying in an ambush somewhere with the car parked around a corner.

“Hey”, he said when he had made his way over and held a hand out for Yuri. 

The boy looked like shit. His hair was a mess and his face was pale, his eyes reddened from the lack of sleep. The slim necktie wasn’t around his collar but carelessly stuffed into the pocket of his crinkled jacket. He looked miserable, looking at Otabek with dull eyes. “Hey”, he said, then looked down on Otabek’s stained hand but didn’t say another word. He didn’t take Otabek’s hand, making his way over to the car and Otabek followed him wordlessly. As usually he helped Yuri into the car and headed over to the driver’s side, worrying. Normally Yuri would spare him a smile, no matter when or who was around. He must be really exhausted.

Otabek turned the key and the engine came to life with a low growl. It was the only sound to be heard for some long minutes as they drove along the empty streets of the ending night.

After some minutes Yuri took a small phial out of his pocket and screwed the cap open. From the corner of his eyes Otabek saw how Yuri turned away from him a little and brought the cap to his nose, sniffing deeply. The sound made Otabek’s stomach cramp.

“What’s that?”, he asked, although he was very sure what it was.

Yuri screwed the cap back in place and sighed, then leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed.

“Katyusha”, Otabek said, his voice lower.

“‘t was nothing”, the boy said, sounding more exhausted than annoyed. His head fell to the side and he looked out of the window. It was all the answer Otabek needed.

It was one thing to know that Yuri took cocaine. It was an entirely different thing to witness him doing it. Different and difficult. Otabek flexed his left hand to make the wound hurt with the tension of the skin. He wanted to be angry at Yuri and he wanted to let him know. But could he? Could he really blame Yuri for trying to forget the things that had been done to him in the previous hours?

He grit his teeth and kept driving in silence.

“‘d you wait for me all night?”, Yuri murmured after some more minutes, rolling his head to the other side to look at Otabek.

Otabek nodded.

“What’s with your hand?”

Otabek shot him a short glance. “It’s nothing.”

Yuri studied his figure, biting his lip before concluding: “You mad at me?”

“No.”

Yuri sighed. “Oh, you  _ are _ mad at me.” He sat up and tilted his head. “Why?” His messy, curly hair framed his face like molten gold. The drug made his eyes glitter like tourmalines. 

When Otabek looked at him he felt like his heart got hit by a hammer. He looked away again. “I don’t like drugs”, he deadpanned.

“Well, I like ’em”, Yuri said, then chuckled lowly.

“I can see that.”

“If you’re gonna make such a fuss every time I let it snow you should quit the job or you’ll have stroke within weeks.” His voice was provocative. “I’m not going to stop because you don’t like it. You’re not my daddy.”

Otabek breathed deeply. That wasn’t Yuri. That was the drug speaking. He didn’t mean that. “Would you stop for your daddy then?”, he asked, surprised how calm his voice was.

“‘f course not”, Yuri replied, cocky. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked out of the window. After a moment of silence he said: “He’s not my real father anyway...”

Otabek remained quiet. He didn’t trust his voice with the lump in the back of his throat.

The rest of the way back to Yuri’s apartment they spent in silence. Only when Otabek had parked the car and opened the door for Yuri the boy looked up at him with a smile.

“Erasyl”, he murmured. “That’s a nice name. I remember the meaning now. You said it means ‘noble hero’.” He took Otabek’s hand and let him help him out of the car. They looked at each other for a second before Yuri turned away. “See you tomorrow, Erasyl.” With that he made his way over to the heavy metal door that fell shut behind him with a loud thud.

Otabek stared at the closed door, the cold of the car park creeping into his bones. Maybe it wasn’t only the cold of the car park though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea, Otabek is losing it eventually, I guess. Sorry about that. orz He's a lot more sensitive than everyone thought. Btw, back in the day I wrote a shortstory about Jun from Halo reach who has PTSD and I remembered some of my research from that, so that's why Otabek takes the gun apart and puts it back together. I hope I didn't totally screw that up... ö.ö Also I have no experiences with cocaine myself but I've seen people on it frequently when I worked at the pub, and they all turned into giant assholes, but I couldn't go too far with Yuri. I hope you still get the idea.  
> Leave me a comment if you like and thanks for reading <3


	33. Going under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sooooorry for taking so long and then upload THIS! ^^' I hope it's not as weird as it feels to me... I wrote this chapter in three parts so if it feels ragged that's probably why, but it was so hard to finish I couldn't change too much in the end and possibly make it even worse. Also it's damn depressing, so be careful (or maybe it's only depressing to me because I struggled so hard to write that ö.ö)  
> I should also mention that Yuri is high as fuck throughout the entire chapter, so if you are sensitive to that topic that chapter is probably not for you. On the other hand you came that far already, so you can take the tough shit pretty well I guess ^^

His fingers around the metal of the Audi’s passenger door hurt. He found himself staring at the door Yuri had disappeared through. If he had stood there for seconds or hours he couldn’t tell. The exhaustion of the day didn’t allow him to keep track of the time that had passed since the echo of the sound that Yuri’s black heeled boots had produced had vanished into the cold air. And it didn’t end there. He found himself unable to figure out what he had to do now. It was like he had fallen through the frozen surface of a lake that surrounded him with dark, icy water. It stunned him. Wiped all rational thought from his mind. He could only stand there, grasping the metal, and feel left behind.

In the distance the traffic could be heard and in the end it was that sound that woke him up. He was tired, he wanted to go home. Lay down in his blank, cold, dark room and sleep and hopefully forget this terrible, terrible day. All the things that had happened today seemed so far away now, but not far away enough to let him forget this emptiness in his chest. 

He had waited for Yuri. Because it was the right thing to do. And he knew Yuri had gone through hell. But the way he had not taken Otabek’s hand when he had emerged from the Belyj residence and not smiled at him before the drug had started to take effect, this distance Yuri had created, it bothered Otabek. It hurt him. How could he sleep peacefully when he didn’t know if Yuri still loved him. How could he not doubt when everyone could touch him, kiss him, hold him, but not Otabek who needed him the most. Had he not made himself clear enough? Had Yuri not understood that if he didn’t love him that Otabek could as well have died back then? Could he not see how much he hurt him? Sure, he had taken his hand, but only after he’d had time enough to let the cocaine do its work. And what did that mean even? Was what he had told him, all the promises that he had made, all the hope he had given him, was any of that honest? What of that had been said by Katyusha? What by Yuri? What was real?

When his look fell on the seat of the R8, right where Yuri had sat, a faint glitter caught his eye. The phial sat there, innocent. Like it had nothing to do with all of this. And at that Otabek felt anger rise in his chest. Something black that had been there for so long. He grabbed the sparkly little thing and slammed the door of the car shut.

The codes came to his mind naturally. The day of Nikolai’s death. His own birthday. He typed it in mechanically without noting the meaning. He didn’t want to intrude Yuri’s space. But he didn’t know what else to do. He needed to know.  _ Why did you avoid me? What is real? Do you really love me? _

He knocked on the door of Yuri’s apartment, then pressed the handle down. Grasping the phial in his left fist he slowly pushed the door open. Beyond it the apartment looked abandoned.

Only after closing the door carefully he called out. “Yuri?” There was no answer. Maybe he was asleep already? “Yuri?”, he tried again, advancing into the flat. Through the large windows the soft blue of the new day illuminated the elegant furnishing.

Maybe it could wait after all, he thought as he looked around, listening closely if there was any sound that indicated that Yuri was awake and had merely not heard him. The boy must be just as tired as Otabek if not more. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Yuri had gone to bed already. And maybe he should do the same. Maybe after a good night’s sleep his doubt would turn out to be nothing but a jinx of his own sleep deprived mind. He’d just leave this damn phial on the table and hope to never see it again.

But as he headed over to the living room he saw Yuri’s jacket. It had been dropped on the floor, like Yuri had just shed it from his shoulders carelessly. With a frown Otabek picked it up from where it laid at the foot of the stairs. His eyes wandered up the stairs, one after the other and then, at the top, there was a slim leg in a heeled boot peeking over the corner. With a gasp Otabek hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Halfway up he froze. The jacket fell to the floor without a sound, the phial with a low clink.

Yuri was curled on the floor, his long limbs sprawled like he had been struck by lightning, one lower leg hanging over the topmost stair uncomfortably. His eyes were open and staring into the void. His shirt was unbuttoned. When he hurried over Otabek could see scratches from fingernails on Yuri’s pale chest.

“Yuri”, he whispered, then louder “Yuri!!”

Tourmalines shifted. It took a second before Yuri seemed to recognize him and his eyes widened in shock.

“No!!”, he screeched making Otabek stop two meters away from him. He struggled to get up but only managed to crawl away from him, bringing more distance between them. “Stay away from me!!”

Otabek’s hands balled into fists. “Yuri”, he whispered once more. “It’s me.” Cautiously he made another step towards Yuri, but the boy noticed and dragged his legs closer.

“I said stay away!” He sat up, shaking, never looking away from Otabek like he was dangerous. Like he could hurt him. Like he was a threat.

It hurt so much inside.

“I know why you’re here”, Yuri hissed. His voice was sharp and cold, drug-induced. “I know what you want. You’re all the same.”

Otabek sank to his knees. He felt weak. Defeated. “Yuri, please-”, he begged, but Yuri didn’t even let him finish.

“You thought I wouldn’t know, didn’t you. You thought you were so smart coming up here. Like you were the first to come up with such a clever plan. But y’know what? I’ve seen it all before.” He laughed and it was loud and clear and terrible.

“Yuri-”

“You underestimated me!”, he called out, sitting up. With slender fingers he pushed the fabric of the shirt aside. The material fell from his skinny shoulders, hanging from his arms like a saint’s stole. The scratches stood out from his pale skin red and angry. It looked like Yuri might as well have caused them himself trying to get rid of the shirt. “I’m out of your league, Erasyl! I’m the most expensive whore in Moscow. In all Russia even! And I am the best! No one has taken as much as I did, no one has done what I did! I know this place and I know how it works. Because I have created this and made them all my toys! You have no idea what this body is! How many have fucked me, how many thought they dominated me when they sat in the palm of my hand like puppets! I’m a god! And I played all of them! They all crawl before me! They all kneel when I suck them dry! Their power crumbles to dust when they cum inside me! They are nothing but weaklings when I milk every last drop out of them!!”

“Stop it”, Otabek whispered, but Yuri didn’t hear him.

“When they slap my ass, when they pull my hair and drive their cocks down my throat, I am the one with power! Every spurt of cum on my face! Every stain!”

“Stop it…”

“It’s all just proof of what I achieved! It’s all proof of what I’ve become. I’m dirty. I’m dirty because I worked so hard for it. I’m…” A sob made Yuri’s voice break. He wiped the tears from his eyes with an angry gesture. “I’m nothing but filth…”, he whispered hoarsely. His shoulders slouched like all strength had left his body. “I’m disgusting-”

“Stop it, Yuri, please!” He was there, by Yuri’s side, in a second. Ready to pull the skinny boy in his embrace and hold him, hold him until this was all over, until everything was alright again. But Yuri didn’t let him - again. His body stiffened and he wrapped his arms around his upper body to shield himself from Otabek.

“Don’t touch me”, he whispered, making Otabek freeze in his motion. “You’ll only get dirty.”

And with that Otabek wrapped his arms around him, pulling Yuri against his chest. “I don’t care”, he spoke into the messy blonde hair, pulled Yuri even closer. “I don’t care what you think you are. I’m here. I’ll stay with you. Please, let me.” He pulled away, holding Yuri at arm’s length. “I didn’t come here to… to do things to you”, he explained watching the tears glitter on Yuri’s cheeks. “I came here because I care for you. Because I’m worried. And I’m scared. And because I need you to tell me that you love me. Because I felt so… lonely. When you just left me behind. So cold. I couldn’t just leave. I can’t just… leave… without knowing you are safe.”

For a moment Yuri only stared at him. “So”, he then said, slowly, as if he was still thinking about it, “you didn’t come because you wanna fuck me?”

“No”, Otabek said, then bit his lip. How could Yuri think that of him?

“Hmmm”, Yuri hummed. His eyes drifted to where Otabek’s hands were on his upper arms. “Then could you… maybe… not touch me?”

As an answer Otabek let go of Yuri immediately. “I’m sorry”, he murmured. “I just don’t think that you are… filthy.” It was hard to say the word out loud. Because he knew Yuri wasn’t. He was as pure as can be, even if Otabek was the only one who could see it.

Yuri hummed again. “I am”, he pointed out. “Sticky. I have her… fluids… all over my body. I’d…” He looked up to Otabek again with a faint glimmer in his eyes. “I’d like to take a bath.”

Otabek stared back at him for a moment before realizing what Yuri was referring to. Eva Mikhailova. After all those hours of being used it wasn’t far fetched that Yuri felt uncomfortable. “Of course”, he hurried to say, “I’ll pour one for you.”

“Good.” Getting up trembling like a newborn fawn Yuri shrugged the shirt off and turned towards the bedroom. Otabek followed him keeping a distance. His eyes were glued to the eagle and the diamond on Yuri’s lower back. The sight gave him a headache and he was relieved when he could turn away and enter the spacious bathroom.

His shoulders hurt when he took off his own coat and jacket and placed them on the toilet lid, but at least the warm light of the bathroom lamps made the world appear a little warmer. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and tried out the golden handles of the faucet. After some seconds the water came hot, steam floating through the room as the porcelain tub slowly filled. Otabek stared down on the steaming surface, his mind just as foggy.

What hurt the most was how Yuri had called him Erasyl. He hadn’t even said his name since he had picked him up from the Belyj residence. And it was no wonder. Otabek didn’t know himself who he was anymore. Maybe he really wasn’t Otabek anymore. Perhaps he had turned into Erasyl without even noticing. Maybe he had lost what had been left of him after he had woken up from the come. Little things, unnoticed. Eating his mother’s beshbarmak. Wearing cable knit sweaters to keep him warm in winter. Being yelled at by his coach for overrotating his jumps. Calling Yuri late at night and talk until the sun rose over the mountains. Things that had made this human being Otabek. Khaligaz, Almaty. His family. They were gone. His confidence. His hope. His name. All he was made of now was worry and fear and this pain that just wouldn’t stop. A pain that sat in his chest and bloomed in his head, cut into his finger, crusty from blood, throbbing. Maybe this was Erasyl now. And that voice in his head had been Otabek all along. Or what was left of him. The fragments of a person he used to be, back then in another life that seemed to be nothing but a distant dream. And maybe after everything was said and done it didn’t matter who he was. If he was Erasyl now it was fine too. Not that he could change anything about it. He could as well just accept that he had become this cold, hopeless, aching creature. There was no place in this world for Otabek Altin.

The water had filled the tub by now and Otabek twitched, then bent over to turn the faucet off. The smears of blood on his hands looked gross against the gold of the handles. But that was him now. He didn’t rinse it off before heading over to the bedroom.

In the blueish light of the bedroom Yuri looked paler than ever. He sat on the edge of the mattress, rolling a thin brownish cigarette between thumb and index finger and, as he saw Otabek approaching, took a short draw of it. The sting of the smoke told Otabek that it wasn’t regular tobacco in the translucent paper.

“What are you doing?”, he asked nevertheless.

With a slight frown Yuri tilted his head. “Need to come down”, he said like it was obvious.

Otabek exhaled slowly to remain his composure. “Your bath”, he said, his voice without any expression.

Putting down the joint in the ashtray of the bedside table Yuri got up. How he could be still so gracious after everything he had consumed was beyond Otabek who tried hard now to stare at Yuri’s white neck as the boy pushed his hair behind his shoulders. He approached Otabek who stood like petrified and tilted his head.

“This”, he said and held out a key to Otabek, “is for the other entrance of this apartment. You leave on the regular way, with the elevator, so you are recorded by the security cameras. You leave the car park, head down the street until there’s a small backstreet. The building is a different one, light gray with a printer shop in the basement. You go to the door on the right. The code is 5413. You take the freight elevator to the topmost floor. Hidden behind a corner on the left there’s a door. Unlock it with this key. Then go up the stairs another two floors. There’s another door. It’s the one in the closet. No one will see you. No one will know you are here.” He pressed the key in Otabek’s hand. “Now hurry. I’ll wait for you.”

Otabek didn’t waste a second. He took his jacket and coat, getting into one then the other as he was already running down the stairs of Yuri’s apartment.

The elevator took way too long to open, then even longer to descend. Otabek tried not to look too nervous as he fiddled with the key in his pocket. Finally the bell rang and the door slid open.

He found himself confronted with a familiar face.

“Oh!”, Aljosha said in surprise. “Erasyl. Didn’t expect to see someone else here this early.”

It was hard not to panic. “Good morning”, he managed to get out, the key between his fingers a ton heavy.

“What are you doing here this early a time?”

“I…” The blood rushed in his ears. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t tell Aljosha that he had been with Yuri all night, that he was on his way to take a secret passageway because the boy was waiting for him. He couldn’t lie about not having been up there at all either, not with everything recorded by the surveillance cameras. The elevator was most likely tracked as well, so they could find out how long he had been up there, and that he had not simply accompanied Yuri to make sure he arrived home safe. How long had he been up there anyway? Half an hour? Longer? That way or the other it was way too much time to just pretend he had merely dropped of the phial with Yuri’s cocaine. “I just…”

“Are you okay, Erasyl?”, Aljosha said and crinkled his eyebrows. “You look like shit.” His face lit up with comprehension. “Did Katyusha have a long night and forced you along? I guess being the kitten’s driver has its downsides, right? Has someone told you he once started a fire in his kitchen? You really need to keep an eye on him, especially when he’s high. It’s a hard job you have with him for sure.”

“Yes”, Otabek finally said, slouching his shoulders. “He’s… high maintenance.” He startled when Aljosha laughed too loud and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Do me a favour and take a taxi home, you shouldn’t ride your bike in your condition. The ride’s safe here. Now go get some rest, you look like you need it.”

“Thank you”, Otabek replied and got out of the elevator, letting Aljosha in.

“See you around”, he heard Aljosha call, then the elevator doors slid shut.

It felt like terrible pressure was released from Otabek’s chest. His heart hammered like an engine and his shoulders felt awfully stiff. He just hoped that no one would be suspicious about what he had done up there with Katyusha. Gritting his teeth he exited the building and crossed the car park.

The way Yuri had described was somehow accurate, and it took Otabek mere minutes even by walking. When he checked his phone he realized it was already seven in the morning. That at least explained why Aljosha had been around already. He decided to look into the working schedules of the bratva people around here in detail as soon as possible. Furthermore he needed to research about drugs and find out how he could expect Yuri to behave under their influence. He had a basic knowledge about certain substances, mostly because he had to avoid those at all costs when he had been a professional athlete so that he was not accused of doping. He couldn’t be sure though that Yuri would stop at cocaine and weed. By God, he couldn’t even be sure that Yuri would be honest about the issue if he asked him directly. So all he could do was prepare for the worst and hope for the best. He didn’t think Yuri would do H or even meth. He needed to consider the possibility though, even if it hurt.

He found the printer’s shop and the next door immediately. There were some people around, the regular early morning commute likely, and with his formal coat and suit he blended in with the people on their way to work. The door opened after he had typed the code Yuri had told him into the pad and he found himself in a hallway that looked like he had come through the back door of the building. The freight elevator was on the right and opened immediately as he pressed the button with his knuckle so he didn’t leave any fingerprints. The ride to the topmost floor was quiet, only the low hum of the elevator audible. The light in the elevator was dim. Otabek’s headache came back and he clasped the key in his pocket so hard his hand hurt. When he clenched his other hand too the wound on his ring finger burned.

The elevator didn’t even make a sound. It just stopped and the door opened. When they closed behind Otabek after he had stepped out and pressed the button for the first floor to send the elevator back down in order not so make people suspicious he found himself in a dark hallway littered with boxes and shelves. With a sigh he whipped his phone out of the pocket and activated the flashlight. Water had damaged some of the boxes, making the cardboard swelling to twice its original thickness. There was dust and dirt coating the shelves and their contents, making it look like no one had been up here to look at them in a long time. The floor was dirty, bare concrete. Here and there there were paper sheets, the ink faded and smudged. From the layout it could be contracts or documents of some sort. Looking around Otabek spotted a double-winged metal door. The sign on it read ‘Archive’, but the dust piling up on the floor in front of it hinted that there hadn’t been anyone in there for a very long time.

It took Otabek a few moments until he spotted the door Yuri had mentioned. It was indeed hidden behind a corner, impossible to spot if you didn’t actively look for it. Otabek really wanted to find out what kind of documents had been abandoned up here, what kind of building this was, but he shook off the thought. Yuri was waiting for him. And with his headache it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to go through old documents with only the light his phone provided.

With a soft sound the key slid into the lock of the hidden door. It turned without much effort, then the door swung open quietly. Carefully Otabek stepped inside, then made sure to lock the door behind him thoroughly again. In the sparse light of his phone he found himself confronted with a narrow stairway, the stairs of the same bare concrete as the building he had come from. There was no handrail, no lamps, not even spiderwebs or dust collecting in the corners. The air tasted thin and stale on his tongue, going well with the throbbing behind his forehead and the exhaustion of his entire body. He climbed the stairs that seemed to go on, more and more, endlessly, only darkness awaiting him as he ascended. It made him feel like he was underground although his legs started hurting from climbing stair after stair. Having started to count the stairs as he walked he found himself numbly staring at his feet after some time. He couldn’t remember how far he had counted. Seventeen maybe. Or twentyfive? There was no sound, only his breathing and the sound of his boots on the stairs sounding hollow in his ears. He frowned, his head hurting even more as his eyebrows crinkled. It was hard to breathe in here. He felt like he was hurrying, but there were just more stairs peeling themselves from the darkness ahead. His knees hurt. Yuri had said it was two floors he had to climb. How far had he come by now? Why hadn’t he counted the stairs?

He jumped when suddenly there was a door appearing in front of him out of nowhere. Otabek stared at the pale metal and the door stared back at him. Reaching out he placed his left hand on the smooth surface. Surprisingly the door wasn’t cold. It felt pleasantly warm under his blood stained fingers. Like it’s stare wasn’t judging him. But welcoming him.

“ _ I’m here for Yuri _ ”, Erasyl’s said, placing his palm on the metal door softly. His voice echoed in his head but the darkness of the stairway and the thin air swallowed the sound. Or maybe he hadn’t even said it out loud. The door didn’t respond either way. Instead it revealed a lock on the right edge. Perhaps it had been there all along. Otabek couldn’t tell with his headache pressing against his forehead from the inside. 

Slowly he took the key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. It fit in just as effortlessly as before. There was no handle, just a little notch, wide enough to fit three fingers and Otabek pressed against the door right above it. The door swung open with a tiny creak. When he stepped through it, everything changed.

It was still dark here. But the air was warm and sweet, smelling like honey and lavender and laundry detergent. Otabek reached out and pushed the hangers aside, his hand brushing against silk and velvet and soft wool. He closed the door behind him and locked it before stepping through the closet.

Exhaustion dragged on his shoulders as he let himself be surrounded by the warmth and darkness of Yuri’s wardrobe. The scent was so pleasant he could as well just lay down and fall asleep. There was perfume in the air and the scent of freshly washed and dried clothes and something so distinctively Yuri that he felt like he must be dreaming. He wanted to stay here. It was so comfortable to just stand here. Whenever he moved there was the light touch of cashmere and silk and fur, like gentle fingers caressing him. How wonderful would it be to just drop to the floor and sleep. He wanted to sleep so badly.

He made a step, running his hand over the the clothes draped over the hangers. His headache pierced through his head. In the light of his phone he saw a shimmer of light pink silk, but with his fingers still dirty from his blood he didn’t dare to touch it. He was sure it was the light pink dress that Yuri had wore for the ballet. He had looked so beautiful in it. Ethereal. His prominent collarbones casting shadows on his pale chest. The curve of his white neck so elegant. Otabek sighed.

The sound of splashing water had him back in the reality in an instant. Right, Yuri was waiting for him. He had poured him a bath before he had left. How long had it been? Ten minutes maybe, or longer? He couldn’t tell. Hopefully the water hadn’t cooled down already. Yuri said he’d wait for him. How long had he waited? Had he finished the joint in the meantime? Had he come down from the cocaine? Had he gotten into the tub already, his long limbs relaxing in the hot water, his eyes drifting shut in bliss, a small smile on his lips as the other drug lulled him asleep. And then, the sound of splashing water.

Panic hit Otabek before he could even make sense of what he was thinking. He hurried to the left where he remembered the door of the closet being, ripping it open. It only took him a split second to regain his orientation.

On the right he could see steam coming from the half closed door of the bathroom. His heart beat so fast he wasn’t sure if it hadn’t stopped entirely, his pulse an indecipherable humming in his chest. With not more than a few fast steps he was over there, steam bulging into his face as he pushed the door open, then he froze.

The first thought that appeared to him was how beautiful Yuri was. His eyes were closed and his face utterly relaxed just as the rest of his body. The red scratches on his chest had flushed even more from the heat of the water, and he looked even more fragile with them spoiling the flawlessness of his fair skin. His hair was floating around his face like clouds illuminated by soft sunlight, a shimmer of gold hovering softly in the steaming water. He looked like an angel, sleeping underwater, the blur of the steam and the ripples on the water making him look surreal. Otabek couldn’t breathe. And then everything happened really fast.

The phone and the key Yuri had entrusted to him landed on the white bath mat without a sound and a moment later Otabek was in the tub, his knees left and right to Yuri’s hips, grabbing the skinny shoulders and lifting him out of the water. His skin felt warm, like he was still alive. But of course the water had kept his body warm. It soaked through his clothes, hot on his skin, flowing off Yuri’s face and hair and chest, splattering back into the tub almost drowning out Otabek’s voice when he yelped Yuri’s name. 

And then Yuri looked up at him, exhaling hastily, and grinned but Otabek’s heart didn’t start beating for another moment.

His body convulsed as he pulled Yuri close, buried his face in the wet hair, clasping his arms so tight around the skinny body but he didn’t care if he hurt him. A painful sob crept from his throat, and then a second one, louder, almost a scream.

Yuri’s hands came to lie on his back, feather light, just like his voice. “Otabek”, he murmured, his tone irritated and concerned. “Otabek, what…”

“What are you doing?!”, he interrupted Yuri, holding him even closer. His tears burned in his eyes and the heat didn’t go away when they mingled with the water in Yuri’s thick wet strands. His head hurt like it had been cut open with a knife; it was nothing compared with the pain in his chest.

Yuri chuckled. The sound was so wrong it made Otabek howl in agony. “I can hold my breath over a minute”, he said, nonchalantly. When Otabek just winced the amusement vanished from his voice. “Otabek”, he murmured, trying to free himself from the tight embrace, but Otabek didn’t let him. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Otabek just shook his head. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t explain. Not right now. Right now he had to hold Yuri. Listen to his heartbeat. Feel him breathe. Feel him squirm in his arms until he gave up and just held onto him lightly.

For a moment he had thought he had lost Yuri. For a moment it had looked like he had come too late. Like he had let Yuri alone, tired and high and careless, drowning in his tub and not even noticing. His face had looked so peaceful. As if he had left all the fatigue and pain and sorrow behind. Like he had let the struggle go and found rest. Like Otabek had let it happen. It had only been a moment until Yuri had opened his eyes and grinned at him, proud how long he could hold his breath under water, but nothing had ever hurt Otabek that much. The pain was so overwhelming it just wouldn’t stop, not even after Yuri was alive and well and his fingers ran over Otabek’s shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. It hurt so much inside, realizing that he could have lost him so easily.

“It’s alright”, Yuri whispered. His fingers kept dancing on Otabek’s shoulder blades, muted by the fabric of his clothes. “Everything’s alright. I’m here, Otabek, I’m here. And you are. We both are. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He kept muttering sweets words, caressing Otabek lightly and after what felt like an eternity Otabek felt his breath evening out. The tension in his shoulders decreased and he didn’t cling onto Yuri quite that painfully. The sobs didn’t hurt that much anymore. The tears didn’t burn. But they didn’t stop entirely either. 

“Now look at you”, Yuri murmured, still gently stroking Otabek’s back, then backing away a little to run his fingers through the black hair. “So hurt, so tired. So scared. But you don’t need to be. I’ll take care of you. I’m here for you.” He looked at him for a moment, silently combing through Otabek’s hair. It felt good. Yuri’s hands and Yuri’s voice. He closed his eyes, shivering.

“You’re so good”, Yuri continued. “So good. How about we get you out of those wet things, hm?”

Otabek nodded. The motion made heavy tears fall from his lashes but he sat back and let Yuri peel his coat from his shoulders. The fabric must be heavy from water, but Yuri didn’t let it show when he let the coat drop outside the tub. “That’s better”, he murmured, then proceeded to the jacket. It landed on the coat with a wet sound. Yuri turned to him, looking him up and down but Otabek hardly noticed. He was aware that Yuri was naked underneath him, but he couldn’t think about it. The pain in his chest was still too present.

Almost unnoticeable Yuri’s fingers danced over the fabric of Otabek’s dress shirt, up the sleeves, then over the leather of the gun holster and up to his neck. “Come here”, he whispered and pulled Otabek close who let it happen, his arms wrapping around Yuri again but without any strength. “I scared you, didn’t I?”, he guessed and Otabek nodded weakly. “I’m sorry, Otabek. I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. Did you think I was drowning?” Another nod made him sigh deeply against Otabek’s shoulder. “Oh, my sweet, stupid Otabek.” He pressed a kiss on Otabek’s temple and then another one. “I’m so sorry.”

Thinking of it brought another sob from Otabek’s throat. “I thought I was too late”, he managed to say with a raspy voice. “I thought I had lost you.”

“I’m sorry”, Yuri repeated and pulled him closer.

They remained like that for some time, silent. And then, slowly, the pain in Otabek’s chest lessened. It didn’t disappear entirely but by the time the water had cooled down enough to make him feel uncomfortable it had diminished enough to make him notice the goosebumps on Yuri’s arms. He stirred in Yuri’s arms and the boy let go of him, smiling softly when he looked him in the eyes.

“Let’s get you out of the water”, Yuri said, his voice low and soft as velvet.

The water draining from his clothes was noisy falling back into the tub when Otabek got up slowly, his body stiff and shivering from cold and exhaustion. Yuri watched him, sitting up on the edge of the tub. The water swirled down the drain after Yuri had pulled the plug, adding to the sound of droplets falling from Otabek’s soaked clothing.

“Can you hand me the towel?”, he asked and Otabek got out of the tub, reaching for the white towel on the small cabinet next to the door. He froze when he realized what a mess he was making on the bathroom floor, his clothes still leaking water that already had formed an expanding puddle around his feet.

“Don’t worry”, Yuri said, wringing water from his hair. “We’ll clean that up tomorrow, together, okay?”

Otabek nodded and finally handed Yuri the towel. His head felt fuzzy, like it was filled with cotton.

“Just get out of those clothes”, Yuri said, getting up and wrapping himself in the massive towel he had unfolded before stepping out of the tub himself. “I’ll get you another towel and fetch you some dry clothes you can sleep in.” He opened the cabinet behind him and handed Otabek another towel. The soft smile was still on his lips. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Otabek nodded and watched him leave through the door that led to the walk in closet. The thought that Yuri would give him something to wear from the same closet he had come through made him clench his fist. Thinking about the softness and warmth of the closet made him realize how cold he was, so he decided to follow Yuri’s advice and with shivering fingers started to undress. 

He had managed to put down the gun holster complete with the Grach on the cabinet and get out of his dress shirt when Yuri was back.

“Here”, he said and put what looked like a plain black T-shirt and jerseys on the edge of the sink, then grabbing the hairbrush from the small board under the mirror. “I’ll wait over there”, gesturing to the bedroom. But instead of leaving again he looked Otabek over, then huffed a soft laugh and came over. His hand felt soft and warm on Otabek’s bare upper arm. “Is this a thing we do now?”, he murmured, his eyes on how Otabek’s undershirt clung to his abs and his pants to his legs. “Helping each other out with dry clothes after we got soaked. Like the other day when we were drenched by the rain and you took me home and got me dry clothes.” He looked up to Otabek’s face, then stretched and kissed his lips softly. Otabek didn’t have a chance to respond though. Yuri broke the kiss right away. “I never wanted to make you cry”, he whispered, placing his hand on Otabek’s cheek. “Please stay with me and let me take care of you. Let me make up to you for scaring you. Let me kiss you to sleep, just for tonight.”

Inhaling shakily Otabek nodded. “Is that all though?”, he croaked, his fingers trembling. He couldn’t do more. He couldn’t do things to Yuri. He couldn’t have sex with him. The mere thought made his insides ache. “Please, Yuri”, he whispered, not sure what the boy expected from him. “I can’t satisfy you. I’m not... “ He grit his teeth painfully.

“Don’t.” Soft fingers caressed his cheek. “I just want to hold you”, Yuri said his smile a little sad now. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Are we?” The thought hadn’t come to him before. Sure, he had come up here taking the backdoor, the secret way, but what if someone else came here and caught them? What if someone came to see Yuri and found them together? After what Sergej had done Orlov sure was cautious. If he sent someone to check on his Katyusha, or even came to do so himself, he’d be dead. He dropped his shirt and grasped Yuri’s hand with both of his. “Are we safe here?”, he pressed. “How can you be so sure?”

But Yuri just smiled. “I promise”, he said. “No one will hurt you. You’re safe here. We both are. You can trust me.”

“But… What if he suspects something? What if he comes to see you? He didn’t catch Sergej, but what if he comes to see if I do the same Sergej did?”

“If this is about Anatolij… He doesn’t know about Sergej.”

Otabek frowned. “What do you mean, he doesn’t know?”

Yuri chuckled. “He doesn't know I let Sergej up. Let him in. I never told him. He has no idea.”

That information left Otabek speechless for a moment. A shiver ran down his spine as he stared at Yuri in disbelief.

“Look,”, Yuri explained and tilted his head, “I didn’t do it to protect Sergej. Or to keep it a secret from Anatolij. It just would have been stupid to tell him and make him aware of the freedom Sergej had. That in his position he had opportunities to make more of his obsession with me than just collecting photos from when I was still acting in the videos. That he actually did seize those opportunities and fuck me whenever he could. Because it had made Daddy furious. And it had made him keep an eye on you, more than he probably does already. I’m not stupid enough to give him any more reasons to keep me under surveillance, or you, or both of us. So I didn’t tell him, even after you idiots came running to his office and told him about the pictures you found at Sergej’s place. Which had me almost punch you in the face and Boris too for being so fucking stupid, by the way.” He laughed, then leaned in and kissed Otabek’s lower lip. “I know you did what you thought was the right thing to keep me safe and protect me. Even if it was stupid. So don’t judge me for doing the same thing: I didn’t tell him so he wouldn’t have a reason to mistrust you. I did it to make sure you aren’t in danger. So I can have you here without anyone ever considering the possibility. Without anyone ever coming up with the idea that I could keep you so close.” He looked up at Otabek again. “So. Will you stay?”

The glimmer in Yuri’s eyes made Otabek smile, although it felt strange after all that had happened this night. “Okay”, he replied and leaned down to kiss Yuri.

Yuri left the bathroom with a smile and the elegant sway of his slender hips despite how the drugs must still affect him. The smile on Otabek’s lips stayed in place as well as he finally peeled the soggy clothes from his cold skin, then toweled himself dry. The clothes Yuri had left on the sink for him felt warm and soft against his skin, the shirt a size too tight but he couldn’t care less. He straightened the fabric over his chest when his eyes fell on the wound on his left ring finger. The incident in the tub had washed away the blood and dirt from his hand, making the wound look fresh and red. It hurt a little, he noticed, but everything hurt a little and some things a little more. His heart and his head and his insides. But it was okay in the end. 

He came to the bedroom and found Yuri in a white shirt that was at least two sizes too big, making it slip from his shoulder. He looked up from brushing his hair and smiled a tired smile. Otabek smiled back at him, then came over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it just as Yuri put the hair brush on the nightstand.

“Is this okay?”, Otabek asked keeping his voice low.

Yuri didn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead he sank back onto the white sheets, pulling Otabek into his arms and wrapping the both of them in the soft blanket. Otabek’s head came to rest on Yuri’s shoulder and the boy started caressing the short hair of his undercut with gentle fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”, Yuri muttered after a while, his voice making his chest vibrate a little.

“Of course.”

Yuri hesitated for a moment, then went on: “Why did you choose that name? Erasyl.”

With a hum Otabek thought for a moment. It felt like it had been ages since he had arranged things with Nad to get a new identity. He wondered how the tattoo artist was doing. And her little pet bunnies. Had he ever expressed his gratitude for everything she and her friends had done to him? Getting him new papers, getting him the tattoo. He looked down on the ink decorating his right arm that he had wrapped loosely around Yuri’s ribcage. “I was used to the name already”, he eventually explained. “If I had chosen another name perhaps I would not have reacted if someone called me by that name. By going by Erasyl I could be sure that I’d be convincing.”

“I see”, Yuri said slowly. His fingers played with one of the longer strands of Otabek’s hair. He felt the light tug, right where the scar was hidden under his hair. There was no way Yuri was doing it on purpose, but it felt to Otabek that maybe it wasn’t entirely coincidental that he got reminded of the night of the attack like this.

“It’s what Khaligaz called you”, Yuri murmured, more a statement than a question and Otabek nodded lightly. “It means ‘Noble Hero’. I asked her about it. She said that she has called you that since you were children. And then she said that she knew how much I loved you. Back then, when I came visit you in Almaty. When I had just figured out myself how massive a crush I had on you.” He chuckled. “She knew already. And she told me that you are worth it. That she didn’t call you Erasyl for no reason.” There was a pause and then Yuri concluded: “She was right. You live up to your reputation. Even now. Especially now. Do you mind if I call you Erasyl?”

Otabek closed his eyes. Yuri felt bony and warm next to him. His scent was honey and almond. That hadn’t changed. “I don’t know”, he confessed, feeling the fabric of Yuri’s shirt against his lips as he spoke. “There’s so many things I can’t do. I want to protect you, but I fail again and again. That’s not what a hero does - fail people. Fail the one person who matters.”

“And you don’t”, Yuri cut in. “You never failed me, Otabek-”

“But Erasyl does!” He sat up, his shoulders felt stiff all of a sudden, his breath hitched. “He is supposed to protect you! But he keeps ruining it. He can’t do anything to save you. And if he can’t… how could I? He’s the strong one.” His exhale didn’t only release his breath but also the sudden anger that had built up in his chest. He was too tired to be angry now. But that didn’t change the fact that in the end Khaligaz might have been wrong. There was nothing noble about him and nothing heroic. Maybe it was nothing but irony that of all names he could have chosen he had picked the one that didn’t fit him in the least.

“Otabek”, Yuri said, sitting up as well, and when he didn’t say anything, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he didn’t deserve the name, he said it again, more severely: “Otabek!”

He looked up at the green eyes that seemed to look right into his heart.

“You’re here”, Yuri said, softer now and took his hands. “You get that? You are here, with me. You came here, against all odds, to find me. You got yourself involved with the fucking mafia because you love me. You stood your ground against a  _ vor vzakone _ who could easily crush you and became my personal driver. You got yourself hurt, again and again, just to stay close to me. You pulled me out of the water when you thought I was drowning. You were ready to cut off your finger when Anatolij asked you for it. You were there for me when Reaper ate the coke and you were there for me when I stumbled out of the Belyi house after they have… used me for hours and all I wanted was to disappear. You were there for me when I felt like the cheapest, dirtiest, ugliest whore in Russia and you held me close when anyone else would have pushed me away. You are more than noble, you both are. You and Erasyl. Because you are one and the same. You are the man I love. The man I kept living for. The man I kept fighting for when I had lost everything. You are here now, closer than I had ever hoped. You didn’t let them stop you. I want you to keep that in mind, okay? At the end of the day, you are here. Only you.” He pushed a black strand of hair from Otabek’s forehead, smiling as it fell back immediately. “You understand how important you are, don’t you? And how much I adore you. Because you are here for me. You’ve always been. Just like Khaligaz said. Do you understand?”

Otabek nodded. It was right, everything Yuri had said made sense. It was so hard to accept that when he himself still felt insufficient. When there was so much he was just not good enough at. He had to improve, he and Erasyl. Because in the end maybe it really didn’t matter who he was. If only Yuri loved him. He’d be able to protect him, no matter what. And if being there for him was what Yuri needed from him he’d be there at all costs.

“I love you, Otabek.”

It made him look up to Yuri. His smile was tired but beautiful.

“I love you, too”, he whispered and let Yuri pull him down onto the pillows again.

The fingers were back in his hair again, soft and loving, and Otabek fell asleep before he even noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, yes, Otabek is really, honestly and thoroughly going crazy right here and that was planned for a veeeeery long time already. I guess he's suffering from PTSD, depression and some identity disorder, probably nothing you can't get in order with the right treatment, but as it is he's gotta deal with that by himself for some time. Needless to say I have no idea how mental illnesses really work, so if you are more knowledgeable than I am (which is veeeeery likely ^^'), please consider any inaccurate depiction as artistic freedom. I don't intend on the wrong side on anybody, please bear with me. Thank you very much!


	34. How it should have been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for last chapter's feedback, I wasn't expecting such a positive response after suuuuch a long time, but I'm happy that you are still around and enjoying the story.
> 
> So here, have some domestic fluff, how teenage Yuri should have gotten some years ago. Yes, you heard me, DOMESTIC FLUFF.
> 
> And then some ^^

Otabek rarely remembered his nightmares in detail. More often than not he woke up in the middle of the night and could only tell from the cold sweat on his skin and the violent throbbing of his heart that he’d had a nightmare. Sometimes he woke up from his own screaming. And two or three times he had found himself sitting upright, back pressed into the corner of his dark room, his right hand clenched around the grip of his MP-443 without any memory of how it had gotten there. He rarely remembered his nightmares in detail, but when he did they were about Yuri.

When he woke up on this Saturday it wasn’t from a nightmare. It wasn’t from the sound of his phone either. It was from soft fingertips caressing his hair.

Opening his eyes slowly to get used to the sunlight he was greeted by golden lashes framing bright tourmaline eyes and a smile so soft and sweet he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t a dream, but a good one this time. Yuri looked at him with so much fondness that he felt his heartbeat accelerate nevertheless.

“Good morning”, Yuri murmured, just like he had used to when they had fallen asleep together and then woken up next to each other, Yuri’s slender body snuggled up against Otabek. It was like a past memory coming back to him, from so long ago, in Almaty, when they had both slept in Otabek’s bed or even when they had fallen asleep on Yuri’s hotel bed in Antalya. Just that Yuri had blushed after realizing how close he was and backed away. He didn’t this time. He didn’t even blush. He just leaned over and breathed the softest kiss on Otabek’s lips. It made Otabek close his eyes in bliss.

Yuri broke the kiss and Otabek looked up to him again. The sun played with the light blonde hair. It must be early afternoon already. The thick strands fell around Yuri’s relaxed face in soft waves, like rose tendrils that had left a light pink petal on Yuri’s smiling lips. He was too beautiful to be real. Way too beautiful.

“Good morning”, Otabek finally managed to answer and it made Yuri chuckle and kiss him again.

“I think I never woke up earlier than you”, the boy whispered against his lips, then leaned back and supported his upper body on his elbow. The fingers of his right hand fidgeted with the collar of the shirt he had given Otabek last night, until he found the small bronze coin around his neck. “You must’ve been really tired. It gave me a little time to look at you though.” He looked up to Otabek’s face from the amulet but his fingers kept playing with the pendant. “I never had a chance to just appreciate what those past three years did to you. Has someone told you how gorgeous you are?”

Otabek felt the blush first in his ears then on his cheeks. The view made Yuri chuckle.

“I guess so, all you hear is how attractive that new ‘Korean’ guy is.” He tilted his head and let the coin go to trace the scar on Otabek’s jaw with dainty fingers. “They didn’t lie”, he whispered, his voice low and his lips shimmering. “After all I always thought you were attractive.”

“You did?” Otabek’s voice sounded breathy.

“Of course I did”, Yuri answered, scrutinizing the motion of his fingers on Otabek’s skin. “I fell in love with your frown first. You looked so fucking cool I couldn’t believe I had never noticed you before.”

“You called me ‘asshole’”, Otabek objected with a grin.

“I was intimidated, okay?”, Yuri gave back with a laugh. “I warmed up to you pretty fast though, didn't I?” His smile became soft again. “The thing is that I used to think you were… hot, back then. And now look at you. I clearly had no idea…” Leaning in, he placed a peck on Otabek’s jaw, right where the scar was. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Otabek frowned. “It’s hard to believe that when you look in the mirror and all you see is scar tissue.”

Yuri frowned. “I see why you feel self-conscious about it. But really, Otabek, you shouldn’t. Those scars don’t ruin you. They adorn you. They show how your will to live was stronger than your injuries.”

Otabek turned towards him, so that Yuri’s hand fell from his face. He gave him a long, thorough look. The shimmer was still in Yuri’s eyes, but it was different now. “And what if it wasn’t”, he asked, his voice low and bitter suddenly. “What if it wasn’t my will to live that made me survive? What if it was the sacrifice of the one I wanted to protect and who gave himself up to make me survive? What if all those scars remind me of are how they were the reason you had to go through hell, Yuri?”

“Is that how you feel?”

A nod. “I know I could feel proud. I know I should be glad that I survived when I look at those scars. Mila said I should see them as a symbol for my survival, as an achievement. I wanted to believe her. But even if I survived, at what cost did I do so? Am I the one to take credit for that? Or should I feel ashamed because I survived, but only because I ruined your life by doing so? Should I not rather feel guilty?”

“Please, don’t”, Yuri hurried to whisper and then he was in Otabek’s arms, toppling him back into the sheets, his forehead pressed against the scar running along his jaw bone. “Why do you hurt yourself so much, Otabek? Why can’t you just accept that I did all that of my own free will? Because I wanted you to live, because I wanted you to come back to me one day and let me make you happy. You deserve it, Otabek, to be happy at last. You don’t deserve all this pain you put yourself through.” He took Otabek’s hand, the left one, carefully not to touch the injury on the ring finger. “You did this to yourself, didn’t you. Because you think you deserve to suffer. Like you could outweigh my pain if you just hurt yourself enough. But that’s not going to work! It only causes more pain, more and more, until there’s nothing else left. And it hurts me, too, to see yourself aching all the time. To hear yourself talk about how you are not good enough. Because I love you, but not matter how much I do it never seems to be enough to reach you through all the pain you take upon yourself.” He pressed a kiss on Otabek’s throat, hard and desperate. “And it’s so fucking discouraging. It hurts me as well. Or do you think I don’t see how you coil yourself up in that fucking depressing shithole you call your apartment, and how you wait for me in the car all the time, sitting in the car and God-knows with what kind of images going through your head. And how you show up with your finger a fucking mess, the very same finger you were ready to cut off without even hesitating, just to show Anatolij how much pain you can take in my behalf. Do you think it doesn’t scare me when you talk of Erasyl like he is a different person, the strong one and you see yourself as nothing but the weaknesses that remain when he’s abducted.” A sigh made Yuri slow down. “I told you before, Otabek. It’s too much. You can’t take that much pain. You can’t take that much vilification. You are so much more fragile than you want to admit. But you don’t need to carry all this weight. You don’t need to handle so much sorrow, if you don’t inflict it to you yourself. You  _ are _ strong. Not infinitely, but strong enough to be by my side. You are strong and you are beautiful. I’d do anything to make you finally accept that.” 

His arms wrapped around Otabek’s chest and held him close and eventually he wrapped his own around the skinny, pale body next to him, too.

It was overwhelming how good Yuri thought of him. And he did believe that this was how Yuri felt. But it was hard for him to think that maybe the image he had of himself was so wrong. 

It was true, he  _ did _ hurt himself. Erasyl had brought it to his attention when he had gone back to Sergej’s place for the second time. And he had known then already that it was true. But it was the kind of atonement he had to make. It was the only way he could think of to make himself feel like he was paying for what he had taken from Yuri, and not only Yuri, but from the world. He had been blessed with a life he didn’t think he deserved. He had taken it and caused so much pain to everyone; his fans, his friends, his parents, Khaligaz and Belek, JJ and Yuuri, Victor, Mila and Georgi who had cried when he had seen him this winter. And it all was nothing compared to what Yuri had gone through, self-imposed or not. This fragile little boy who held him so close despite everything he had made him go through.

“It’s hard”, he murmured into the sweetness of Yuri’s hair. “I can’t think of anything else to make up for all the pain I caused you.”

Yuri shot up onto his elbows, glaring at him with piercing eyes. “But I can think of something!”, he gasped. “And you know what, it’s only fair to make me decide how you can ‘make up’ for everything.” His expression softened. “Love me, Otabek. Hold me. Kiss me. Make the pain go away by giving me what I never had. You owe me over three years of being in love with you. Make up for everything by three years worth of kissing me awake and holding my hand and kidnapping me on your bike. Give me your adorably tousled hair waking up next to me and sneaking out to be with you and keeping your eyes on me when I get out of the car. And sometimes… smile because I make you a little happy. Take care of me, and worry about me and just... love me. And yourself. That’s how I’ll forgive you. That’s what I need from you. Can you do that for me?”

“I can try”, he said, then lifted a hand to run his fingers through Yuri’s hair.

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering Otabek just pulled Yuri down. Their kiss was hungry, with too much tongue and too many emotions. But at the same time it was just enough. If that was what Yuri asked from him, he’d do it. Not only the kiss. But everything else, too.

A moment later Yuri sighed into the kiss, pressing his body closer to Otabek’s. The heat he radiated was seeping into Otabek’s skin, making his insides melt. He wanted more. And although there was no way Yuri could be any closer to him he grabbed his slender hips. His fingers slipped under the hem of the loose shirt, touching the silky skin. It felt so good, so incredibly good. And then Yuri was over him, his hair everywhere around him and his hand on his shoulders, fisting the shirt Otabek wore and the kiss got too intense for Otabek to think straight. One moment he was sliding his hands up Yuri’s ribs, the next he found Yuri on top of him, grinding his hips against Otabek’s hesitantly. That was when Otabek startled, his shoulders stiffening under Yuri’s touch, his lips motionless against Yuri’s sweet mouth and his hands stilling on the prominent ribs.

Inhaling slowly Yuri backed away a few millimeters, only enough to break the kiss, but Otabek could still feel his hot breath on his lips. “Too much?”, he whispered and Otabek frowned.

“Sorry.” He didn’t want Yuri to stop. Not when the blush on his cheeks was so beautiful and his eyelids lowered in bliss. It was true - he owed him. But he wasn’t ready for this kind of physical contact. He’d have to interrupt Yuri, disappoint Yuri until he had things sorted out with himself. He needed time to do so. He couldn’t just make the discomfort go away so suddenly. And the feeling of guilt.

“Don’t be”, Yuri murmured and sat back on Otabek’s tights. “I didn’t want to rush anything. I’ve just… been wanting you for so long.” He placed his hands on Otabek’s that had fallen back onto the sheets. “We’ll do this your way, okay? I want this to be nice for you. This… thing we have.” He smiled and he was so pretty doing so Otabek’s heart hurt from looking at him. “What… what is this thing we have anyway?” His eyes wandered over Otabek’s chest, along his shoulders and the back up until looking him in the eye.

There wasn’t a moment when Yuri had ever been this insecure. The way he held onto Otabek’s hands so softly, biting his lips and giving him this shy look. It was obvious that he was not sure the answer would not hurt him. So Otabek made sure to give it a good thought.

What was it they had really? He had never thought about how to define this. It was hard coming up with an answer now. Especially because there were still so many things undefined between them. It wasn’t like they could take their situation lightly. They were in danger, without cease, now and probably for the rest of their lives. They had lived the past years so differently, Otabek didn’t know what Yuri expected from him. Hell, he didn’t know what to expect from himself! With Yuri’s sweet words and his own feelings, still so troubled about everything he did and was, it was so hard to make out something certain, something he could start to figure out with what they were to each other. What they could be. What they wanted to be. But weighing his feelings and Yuri’s softness and everything that had happened, everything they had endured to come this far he found one thing that was definitive. It was love. His love. Yuri’s love. And as the thought peeled itself from the mess that was their life, he couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s everything, Yuri”, he said. The smile on his lips widened and there was one on Yuri’s lips too. “This ‘thing’, it’s love. Like it’s always been. Just that we know now. It’s everything you want it to be.”

Yuri chuckled, entwining his fingers with Otabek’s. The wound on his left ring finger hurt, but he didn’t care, because all of a sudden Yuri looked so happy. He had never looked so  _ happy _ . 

“Does that mean…”, he tilted his head and laughed lowly, “that you are my boyfriend now?”

Otabek nodded. Because that was the only thing he could think of this being. He twitched when Yuri screamed and fell onto him, wrapping his arms around his neck so tight Otabek couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, finally, fucking finally!!”, he squealed. “Oh my fucking God, I can’t believe I finally made it!! Oh God!” He laughed into the nape of Otabek’s neck and then peppered kisses all over his face. Then, suddenly, he sat back and grinned. “Was about time, asshole!”

 

**е**

 

They had a very, very late breakfast in Yuri’s kitchen. It was after 2 pm already, but when Otabek asked about Yuri’s plans for the day, the blonde just shrugged.

“Gotta head over to the ‘shade, but that’s not until tonight”, he said, his mouth half full with one of the bread buns they had found in the freezer and warmed up in an oven Otabek would bet had never been used before. “Maybe you could show me where the car is. The one you bought, you know?”

“Right”, Otabek agreed, sipping on the cup of tea. “I should show you as soon as possible.” He pondered for a moment, before asking: “You are sure that Orlov will not notice that you are gone? Even when leaving through the back door, he could come up here and find you are gone.”

“Nah, not very likely. He’s usually not around on weekends.” Twisting a strand of hair around his index finger Yuri leaned back in the chair. “Unless he’s got some work to do and needs my assistance. He’s quite the family person, actually. He spends most of the time in his office on weekdays, working overtime and stuff, but even then he rarely shows up up here. He leaves me my personal space and if there’s something he needs my help with he usually has Miss Lysenkova call me and ask me to come downstairs. On the weekends he spends time with his family mostly.”

The way Yuri so nonchalantly said that made Otabek a little uneasy. “But aren’t you a part of his family?” Yuri gave him a strange look, but Otabek couldn’t help but wonder. With everyone repeating that the bratva was basically a family like it was their mantra be had been certain that the vor in particular lived by this principle. And it all had looked a lot that way, Yuri being so intimate with Orlov’s daughters and all. All this time Otabek had thought that Yuri had found some sort of family here. Had he been wrong all along?

“You know…”, Yuri said slowly, “I’d like to think so.” Leaning forward again he crossed his arms on the table and stared at the polished wood. “Maybe that’s what I want to feel like. And it’s easy to see this that way. Everyone’s so close here. In the bratva. It’s not some clan of evildoers like you see in the movies, not just an accumulation of drug dealers and murderers. The people here are… just people. Like, humans. With their own story and feelings and hopes and shit. And Anatolij and Svetlana Ivanova and the girls are no exception. They are perfect. And sometimes I feel like I’m an intruder. Because after all I’m just the slut Anatolij kind of has a thing for or something. No matter how much I belong to him. There’s a gap and I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable by being brash.” He looked up to Otabek. “You know what I mean?”

“Is it because of Miss Orlova?” The thought came naturally. If there was someone who could make Yuri feel uncomfortable it was probably her.

Surprisingly Yuri laughed lowly. “Not at all. What gave you the idea?”

Otabek sipped on his tea before answering. “At the ballet I didn’t fail to notice that the two of you have… some similarities when it comes to outer appearance. I thought that maybe she would feel a certain… bitterness realizing that she had been replaced by someone so much more beautiful than her. And younger. And overall… a lot more…” He fell silent when he didn’t find words to describe how he perceived Yuri.

The boy stared at him for a moment. “Was… was that a compliment?”

With a shrug Otabek looked into his half empty mug. Half full. His ears felt hot.

Yuri’s chuckle was low and raspy. “Shit, you’re cute. But don’t worry, Svetlana Ivanova doesn’t see me as a rival. Actually I’m still in awe over how she doesn’t hate me. But apparently she thinks of me as more of a substitute for the things she can’t provide for Anatolij. Like having gay sex with a pretty boy. I don’t take anything from her. I just fill in the places where she can’t satisfy him.”

Otabek hummed. “So you share the position?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“But you still don’t feel like you belong to the family?”

Yuri sighed, folding his hands and looking down on them like he could read the answer from his slender fingers. “Yes, somehow. I know it’s probably stupid but… You know, I’ve never had much opportunity to experience what it’s like to have a family. I just had Grampa all the time and even with him it was… I wasn’t around enough. I was always so busy with what I thought was important. I missed so many things, because I was so occupied with shit that didn’t matter in the end but that I thought was my life. So when Anatolij stays away to spend time with his family, his  _ real _ family… I rather keep my distance. I don’t want to steal him away from them. They deserve a loving husband and a father who’s there. And who for once doesn’t have to care about that whore he keeps around.”

“Yuri.” The whisper made the blonde boy look up to him again. “He doesn’t think of you that way.”

“How can you know?”

It wasn’t too hard answering that question. “I can see it in the way he looks at you”, Otabek said. “When he came to pick you up from the veterinarian I noticed for the first time. And then again, when he kissed you before Irina’s performance, in the theatre’s lobby. And when he told you to be careful when you informed him about yesterday’s appointment.” He put the mug down with the right hand, reached out over the table and placed his left on Yuri’s fingers. “When he said that if I ever threatened you he’d make me pay, it wasn’t like people do if they see a whore in distress. He said it like he’s going to kill me without second thought. It was scary. And although it’s hard for me to confess it, I realized that he is honest and that you mean so much to him.”

Yuri huffed a thin laugh. “I wish that was true as much as I wish it wasn’t.”

“It is, Yuri”, he reassured. “He will protect you like you are his family. He will kill everyone who hurts you. He got so angry when he heard about Sergej.”

“I noticed”, Yuri said with a nod. “And I also noticed that  _ you _ were angry.”

“Of course I was.”

A smile showed on Yuri’s lips. “Then does it mean you’d kill everyone who hurts me?”

“I wish I could.”

“Otabek.” The tone of Yuri’s voice was urging. “Would you kill someone for me?”

Strange how Yuri hadn’t noticed all along. Maybe it was because he still couldn’t understand that he was really everything for Otabek now. That he would do anything if Yuri would just benefit from it if it didn’t put him in danger. Of course he would kill for him. It could have felt creepy how calm he was about thinking that. About how natural it felt, how okay it was. He’d end a human’s life. Much like his own life had almost been ended on his 20th birthday. And he wasn’t scared of himself. Because on the other side of the table sat a being so pure it was worth anything. He’d kill for him. He’d burn down Moscow for him. He’d doom the world if it would keep Yuri safe even just for a second.

“Yes”, he said. The happy smile on Yuri’s face was all the reward he needed.


	35. Out

 

His clothes were still moist from being left a half-soggy pile in the bathroom in the early morning, so Yuri let him have underwear and a sweater for the ride home. While Yuri went to get dressed as well Otabek sat down on the bathroom floor with the blow dryer and tried to dry his shoes as much as possible. A scent of leather came from the footwear but Otabek guessed they’d need one day or two to dry completely. Once at home he’d just go for his boots until this pair was good to wear again.

When he came back to the bedroom Yuri had sat down on the edge of the mattress, brushing his hair that had dried overnight. Otabek couldn’t help but smile at Yuri’s ripped black skinny jeans, the burgundy tank top and the black zip-hoodie. They had decided that it would be best to dress as tacky as possible in order not to be recognized easily and Yuri had obviously thought is was easiest to dress up as his 16 year-old self. He looked pretty like that though, prettier than in all the expensive fabrics and exquisite fashion he usually wore and he looked more real, too. Almost like the past three and a half years had never happened.

When Yuri put the hairbrush away and reached for the elastic on the sheet he spotted Otabek.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, collecting the mass of blonde to tie it into a ponytail, keeping his gaze on Otabek.

“I just thought”, he answered, slowly, “that you look like Yuri Plisetsky a lot like that.”

An elegant eyebrow rose. “That’s probably because I  _ am _ Yuri Plisetsky?”

Otabek chuckled. “Of course you are”, he then said, watching how Yuri tied his hair into a messy bun. “It’s just… You look more like the Ice Tiger than the Fairy like that. It’s nice.”

Getting up from the bed Yuri tilted his head. “You really need to work on your compliments, Otabek.”

They left the apartment through the back door, Otabek feeling slightly uncomfortable in the moist shoes, Yuri as confident as ever after he had completed his outfit with a black leather jacket and well-worn leopard print converse. With his hood up and hand stuffed into his pockets he radiated the same badass aura he had surrounded himself with as a gold winning prodigy. It made Otabek feel warm inside that that part of Yuri was still there, that so much of it was still there, even after everything. He felt relieved and proud. When they took the pedestrian tunnel to the other side of the street, roamed by people at that time of the day, a man grazed Yuri’s leather clad shoulder hurrying in the opposite direction and the blonde turned around to shout a “Look where the fuck you’re going, assole!” after him. Otabek chuckled lowly. Looked like some things never changed.

The dark blue Volkswagen was waiting for them in one of the more remote park decks. There were only two other cars parked here, an old green Lada Niva and a tiny japanese car Otabek couldn’t name. Their sound of their shoes echoed from the walls.

“So,”, he murmured, his voice distorted, and he looked around, “you say there are no cameras down here?”

“Yes”, Otabek answered. He had checked when he had left the car here. It was important that no one recognized Yuri when he sneaked out to bunk off secretly. 

He gasped in surprise when delicate but strong hands grabbed his collar and pushed his back against the wall. Yuri’s lips were on his a second later, his hands holding onto the fabric of the sweater before shifting up to tangle up in Otabek’s messy hair. Otabek grabbed Yuri’s hip to pull the boy closer, but the kiss was over quick and Yuri backed away, licking his lips. “You know, that’s what I wanted to do a long time ago”, he whispered and tucked a strand of hair behind Otabek’s ear. “Stealing kisses when noone is watching. Like we’re still teenagers. Did you like that?”

Otabek nodded wordlessly. His breath came in excited pants. He wanted more of that. Now and forever.

Yuri however had turned around already, digging the key for the Golf out of his pocket. “This is it then? Looks ratty.”

“The lock on the passenger side doesn’t work, you have to unlock it from the inside”, Otabek explained, catching his breath. “Also, the heater doesn’t work properly sometimes and the back wiper isn’t functioning.”

“Does it drive?”, Yuri joked and unlocked the driver’s door.

“I didn’t carry it here.”

With a grin Yuri got into the car and pulled the knob on the other door open, so Otabek could get inside.

“When did you get your license anyway?”, he asked as Yuri started the engine and turned the light on.

“Anatolij got me one for my 18th birthday.”

Otabek frowned. “What do you mean ‘got you one’?”

Yuri pulled out of the parking lot skillfully and drove towards the driveway ramp. “He taught me how to drive and had made one for me at the ministry.”

“So you never took lessons?”

Yuri shot him a smirk. “What, are you scared?”

The way Yuri drove up the ramps didn’t make him worry, really. “No, it’s just…” He was scared. But for a different reason.

“Just…?”

Otabek sighed, looking down at his hands. “You should be careful. If you get into an accident, you’ll attract attention. Even if you weren’t the cause of the crash or-”

“Don’t worry, Otabek”, Yuri interrupted him. “I am a safe driver and I promise I’ll be careful, but even  _ if _ something happens I’ll just offer the other party an amount of money they can’t refuse and bribe any police officer to mind his own business. Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about. Things are easily solved here it you have half a million roubles in your back pocket.”

Otabek almost choked on his own breath and Yuri laughed loud. 

“Pays off being a mafia princess.”

Yuri couldn’t remember the way over to Otabek’s place in detail so Otabek helped him out, navigating him through the traffic of the busy commercial district and then over to the industrial area more on the outskirts of Moscow where Otabek’s flat was.

“It looks worse in bright daylight”, Yuri murmured when they took the small driveway that led behind the hauling company’s building. 

Now that he mentioned it Otabek found that Yuri was right. The building was dilapidated, the asphalt crumbling under the tires and the sun shining through thin clouds brought out every crack in the brickwork. Under the metal stairs Otabek spotted dead leaves and thin yellow grass breaking through the tar colored surface of the ground along with the remains of what looked like broken tiles.

“Like no one has lived here for decades”, Yuri concluded. “Or more like no one ever lived here.”

“That’s the point”, Otabek explained and it made Yuri frown.

They got out of the car and Yuri locked the doors before they climbed the stairs to Otabek’s apartment. Inside it was just as cold as outside and Yuri sighed when the door fell shut behind them and left them in the dim, yellowish light of the light bulb Otabek had flicked on.

“Seriously, Otabek,”, Yuri crossed his arms in front of his chest, “with this apartment it’s no wonder you have depressions.”

With a frown Otabek turned to him. “I don’t have depressions.”

Yuri lifted an eyebrow. “I disagree to that, no offense. But honestly, this place is a nightmare. You don’t even have furniture.”

“I don’t need furniture.” Otabek took off his shoes and walked into his room, placing them under the heater and turning it up to the highest level.

“Hey.” 

When he turned around Yuri had followed him, then took his hand.

“Listen, Otabek. I know you think you don’t need anything. But this”, with his free hand he made a gesture that included the tiny, spare room, “this isn’t a place to live. This is torture. And you said you wouldn’t hurt yourself so much. For my sake.”

Otabek narrowed his eyes, sceptic. “Then what do you suggest?”

The smile on Yuri’s lips was like the sun breaking through gray clouds. “I suggest you get dressed and we head over to the hardware store and get you some basics. A table and a cupboard. And a bedframe if you want me to stay over sometimes.” He winked.

The thought was appealing enough; not only the one of Yuri staying over but also of not sitting on the mattress all the time and of keeping his clothes in some kind of cabinet. It would be much nicer to prepare tea with the cooking plate and teapot on a cupboard instead of on the floor. And maybe some dishes would be nice, so he could eat from a plate and not only from styrofoam take-out boxes.

“Okay”, he finally agreed. “But let me shower first.”

Yuri smiled the cutest smile and placed a peck on his lips.

It wasn’t unusual that Otabek stared at himself in the mirror after he had showered and shaved. His hair hung in his face, wet and messy. He needed to trim the sides of his undercut, it would start to look awkward soon. Not that even with a fresh haircut he wouldn’t look awkward. It was a mystery to him how he of all people had attracted Yuri Plisetsky, even before he had woken up with a headache and scars all over his body. 

Frowning he tried to towel his hair as dry as possible, then got into the boxers he had brought. He looked at the bronze coin between his collarbones before it disappeared under the T-shirt. He got into black jeans and a black hoodie and was about to reach out for the styling mousse he usually worked into his hair so the long strands stayed in place with his regular hairstyle, but then he remembered that it would be better to look as little as Erasyl as possible if they wanted to go out together, so he just tousled the black mass with his fingers. In the mirror the tips of his ears could be seen as they reddened when he pushed the thought around in his head a little: He and Yuri were going out. Like in _on_ _a date_. An awkward date, sure, but it kind of was one, wasn’t it? Maybe he could treat Yuri to coffee after they were done shopping. He owed him after all. Over three years of dating. The low chuckle that bubbled from his throat felt weird but nice. He turned away from the mirror, ignoring the blush on his cheek bones.

Yuri had draped Otabek’s wet clothes from yesterday over the heater and then laid down on the crumpled sheets. “What do you do here all day?”, he asked when Otabek appeared from the bathroom. “You don’t even have a TV. Don’t you get bored?”

“I mainly come here to sleep”, Otabek explained and plugged the cable of his mobile phone in. The battery had died over night, probably because he had left the flashlight on, occupied with more important matters after coming to the bathroom last night. A tiny red light in the upper right corner lit up when the battery started charging.

“What do you do the rest of the day,”, Yuri asked, sitting up, “when you are not working?”

“I go to the gym often, to remain in shape.” Sitting down on the mattress Otabek fished a pair of black socks from his suitcase. The thought that soon he’d have a place to store his clothes away made him smile. “Or to the shooting range. Sometimes I play airsoft, there’s a playing field a few minutes from here. It helps me train my combat skills.”

Yuri pouted. “That’s it? Don’t you ever do anything for fun?”

Tuning his head Otabek looked at him for a moment. “I don’t… have time for something like that.” When Yuri squinted his eyes, puzzled, Otabek straightened his shoulders. “I have to become better. Stronger. I…” He frowned. “Half a year ago I wasn’t able to walk. I couldn’t speak properly. I could barely sit up in my bed and tell nurse Aitmukhambetova that I had the worst headache of my life. I couldn’t even think straight most of the time, in the beginning. Just like a newborn I had to start from scratch. That I recovered so fast was only because I worked on myself every second. Until I could leave the hospital. Until I could go and look for you. And realize that if I want to be there for you it’s not enough to be as good as I used to be. You know as good as I that I wasn’t enough. So I have to be better. I can’t waste time for nonsense. I have to exploit all the resources so in case something happens you can rely on me.”

“Yeah, I get it, you care about me”, Yuri said, but he sounded a little salty, “but have you never come to think that maybe it would be good to not push yourself over the fucking limit all the time?” His eyebrows were furrowed. “Because I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but you’re no goddamn machine, Otabek. I know you used to think that you have to give 120 fucking percent, even back when it was about skating, but you didn’t really have a choice. You did that because - sorry if I’m rude now, but your mother is an asshole and she made you a sad, gloomy weirdo. You don’t have to be that now. She’s not here to pressure you, no one does and you shouldn’t be doing that to yourself. Like, I’m fucking serious, I think you are not quite right up here”, he tapped his forehead with his index finger, “and it makes me kinda angry. A whole fucking lot actually. Because you do the same shit to yourself that she did. She put that bug into your ear that your best is never enough, but there’s a limit, Otabek, and it’s there for a motherfucking reason. You’re human, for fuck’s sake. You’re not unbreakable. And I can only keep an eye on you so much with the pile of shit we’re stuck in here. I need you to stop destroying yourself. You’re not helping me like this. If anything you only make me worry my fucking ass off.” He glared at Otabek who didn’t know if this was the moment to defend himself and even if it was how he could do so. “Okay, listen”, Yuri continued, his voice softer now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be mean but...“ He sighed. “I need you to take care of yourself a little, okay? It’s good you’re alive, Otabek, and there was a time when knowing you survived would have been enough for me, but it’s not anymore. I don’t need you to be  _ just alive _ . I need you to be happy. I demand you to be happy. I don’t want you to break yourself in halves because you think you need to be superhuman or something in order to protect me. You said you can fight and you said you can shoot and that’s honestly more than Sergej was ever capable of, so you really don’t need to push yourself so much. You don’t have to train for the fucking apocalypse. You have to live and be safe - as safe as you can - so I don’t worry so much about you. I want you to stop hurting yourself and get some rest. You need it. Your body needs it and your soul as well. You understand that, don’t you.”

Otabek nodded. His glance had dropped to his knees, his hands balled into fists. “I’m sorry I make everything so much harder for you”, he murmured. He twitched when Yuri grasped his hands.

“You’re making things harder for both of us”, Yuri corrected him. “But we’ll fix that, together, okay? And we start today.” The smile in his voice made Otabek look up again. “We’ll get you some nice things for your room and then we can think of how we can make things better for you, okay?”

Otabek nodded, smiling a tiny smile. He didn’t know how Yuri could be so invested in him, but it did make him happy. The feeling was alien and it was nice. He wanted it to stay.

 

**т**

 

The VW was surprisingly roomy. When the back seat was toppled over the trunk had space for the modest white cupboard, the small dresser and the wooden table as well as two chairs all in pieces and in brown cardboard boxes. The long sides of the bedframe had to be pushed between the two front seats so Yuri could close the trunk door. They piled the boxes with the dishes, cutlery and kitchen utensils up on top and Yuri slammed the lid shut. His cheeks were red from maneuvering the boxes so they could stop at the electronics shop and load some more appliances into the car without having to rearrange everything again.

“So far so good”, he huffed and grinned over to where Otabek stood, watching him. “Wanna head over to the  _ Evroset _ ?”

Otabek nodded and they got into the car again.

“I really hope we can get that all assembled today”, Yuri said when he had a look at the car’s dashboard. “It’s half past 4 already.”

“You have to be at the club tonight if I remember correctly”, Otabek said and Yuri nodded.

“We have a gig tonight and I need to keep an eye on everything on the weekend when Anatolij is not around.” He drove into the electronics shop’s parking lot. “Maybe if we don’t get finished you can just take the evening off and I’ll take a taxi. I won’t be staying too long tonight anyway.”

For a moment Otabek thought about it. “Let’s see how far we come”, he then suggested. “Then we can decide.”

Yuri smiled at him contently.

Otabek picked out a small fridge in the shop and a mini oven as well as a small lamp that he could attach to the wall next to his bed. When they came through the department with the bathroom appliances he stopped in his track. Yuri noticed a few steps later, then turned around.

“Need anything else?”

With a frown Otabek looked up and down the self with the electric shavers and clippers. “I thought”, he said slowly when Yuri came back to stand beside him. “A blow dryer. And… Maybe I should buy a clipper too. You know for trimming my undercut.”

“Yeah it grew really long”, Yuri agreed, his fingers brushing over the shorter side, right over Otabek’s ear. It felt nice. “Do you usually cut it yourself? Isn’t that tricky?”

Otabek shrugged. “Khaligazh used to do that for me”, but before he could continue Yuri said:

“I could help you!”

Weird how such a simple sentence made Otabek feel so warm inside.

“Can’t be too hard”, Yuri chattered on, “I mean you’d only need the right comb to slip on. Let’s see…” He bowed over to read the description on the various boxes, oblivious about the blush on Otabek’s cheeks. 

So that’s what having a boyfriend was like then.

“I think that one’s okay”, Yuri concluded and took a black box from the shelf. “You can adjust the top depending on how long you want the hair to be. And the color is nice”, he added with a grin, handing Otabek the box with the burgundy device.

Of course Otabek didn’t object. Why would he, when he felt so light being around Yuri.

Leaving the shop after paying Yuri had a very satisfied look on his face. “And you are sure you don't need a washing machine? I mean, sure it would be heavy, but it’s much more convenient than taking all your stuff to the coin laundry all the time.”

“I’d need a dryer, too”, Otabek explained. “The coin laundry is just around the corner, it’s not that complicated, really.”

“We wouldn’t get that in the car anyway”, Yuri realized, then stopped in front of a shopping window. When Otabek turned towards him he realized that it belonged to a flower shop next to the  _ Evroset _ . “I read”, he said without looking away from the plants displayed, “that having a potted plant helps making a room much more comfortable.” 

Otabek had an idea where this was going. “Let’s get the stuff in the car first, then we can check the flower shop out.”

Yuri’s step had a happy bounce to it as they headed over to the car.

Otabek wasn’t a flower type, usually. His father used to have gummi trees and yuccas and dracaenas throughout the house but Otabek had moved too often to get involved with plants and flowers very much. He couldn’t have taken a musa banana from Kazakhstan to the US to Canada and back home again. The only plant he had ever had was the strange prehistoric looking yellow thing next to his hospital bed.

The elderly lady in the flower shop tilted her head when Otabek tried to describe the plant to her. “Green, yellow, looks like a rooster’s neck, prehistoric”, she repeated slowly, like tasting the words on her tongue. Then, suddenly her eyes lit up. “Does it look like the green part of a pineapple?” When Otabek gave her an affirmative nod she beamed him a smile. “I think what you mean is a bromeliad, we have some over here, come have a look.

It was indeed the exact same flower Otabek meant.

“Why don’t you take something a little… less awkward?”, Yuri asked when the lady headed over to the cash counter to wrap the potted plant into paper for the transport.

“I had one of those in the hospital”, he explained. “I don’t even know who brought it, I never asked. But it was… nice.” Yuri nodded a little unsure. It was good, looking at him surrounded by all the flowers. There were lilies and dahlias in all colors imaginable, tulips and masses of roses in white and red and pink and yellow and they all looked so bright and fresh and beautiful, just like Yuri. Even with his hair a little windswept and his lips pouting and this tiny blush on his nose tip he looked so gorgeous that Otabek struggled hard to hold back and not just kiss him right there. He was all gold and green and soft pink in midst of all the flowers. Pale and soft and strong and shimmering, full of life and enchanting. All those wonderful flowers suited him so much. And Otabek thought that whoever had given him the bromeliad had either purposely or accidentally picked the one flower that maybe suited Otabek best, weird and prickly. He smiled. “Could you imagine me with a bunch of hydrangeas or gerbera?”

Yuri laughed his low, raspy, honest laugh. “Now that you mention it, that thing suits you pretty damn well!” He took a step towards Otabek and looked at him with so much fondness in his eyes that Otabek’s heart beat faster. “It’s really weird at first glance, but it has its own fascinating beauty if you just look at it a second time.”

“Yuri”, he whispered, because his voice wouldn’t work, but before he could form a decent train of thought the saleslady called them over:

“Now, that should do it, do you pay cash or with credit card?”

Yuri gave him a grin and turned away, leaving Otabek with a red face and heavy beating heart. “Cash, please”, he pressed out and went over to the cash register.

 

**с**

 

Time seemed to fly so fast when Otabek desperately wanted it to run slow. It was nice to watch Yuri work screws into the particle board pieces of the cupboard, his white fingers deft and and eager and his cheeks a rosy pink. A strand of hair fell into his face and he pushed it back again and again, just to have it fall back over his forehead immediately again. “Motherfucking…”, he cursed under his breath, tying his messy bun three times anew before he managed to catch all the wavy strands in the elastic. Otabek really tried to be eloquent working on the furniture, but it was so hard when Yuri bit down on his lower lip as he concentrated to read the instructions manual right or furrow his brows trying to figure out which screw belonged to which part of the cupboard.

In the evening they took a break, sharing a deep frozen potato gratin they had picked up from the convenience store on their way back to Otabek’s flat. They warmed it up in the mini oven and the scent of grilled cheese and potatoes made the room feel so much more at home that ever before. They both burned their tongues on the food and Yuri cursed laughing. 

After dinner Yuri made Otabek sit on the one chair they had built together already. “I better cut your hair now, who knows when we have the opportunity again”, he said and Otabek gladly let it happen. The buzzing of the machine sounded familiar next to his ears and Yuri was very careful and gentle, trimming away the shorter sides so the tiny hair laid like a thin black blanket on the towel around Otabek’s shoulders and on the floor around the chair.

“Have a look”, Yuri said when he was finished.

Otabek got up and went to the bathroom, tuning his head to watch himself in the mirror with the missing corner. “Looks good”, he stated and ran his hands over the short hair, then unwrapped the towel from his shoulders.

When he came back to his room he found Yuri sitting on the corner of the bed, crying.

“Yuri”, he whispered, hurrying over and sitting down next to the blonde. “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Yuri let his head hang, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry”, he sobbed, his shoulders trembling. “It shouldn’t have been me. It’s all so wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”, Otabek asked, making his voice sound as soft as possible.

“She should have been with you, Otabek”, Yuri exclaimed. “Khaligazh. She loved you.”

Otabek didn’t understand. He wrapped his arms around Yuri and pulled the boy close and Yuri let it happen. He hid his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck and sobbed. His fingers gripped Otabek’s sweater like he never wanted to let him go.

“I know”, he said, finally, because of course he knew. He hadn’t thought about Khaligazh for some time, because it just wasn’t necessary. She was with him, always, she was within him. They had been so close since the day they had been born. On the same day even. More like brother and sister than just friends really they had understood each other without a word. Otabek had been stoic, shy and Khaligazh too mature for her age and old-fashioned and somehow they had complemented each other. She had been there when he had needed her and vice versa. She kept the breaking parts of him together. Maybe they had been meant to be. Just that one day Yuri had happened. And as much as Khaligazh was still a part of who Otabek was, the glue that held him together, the steady hands to pick up what crumbled away from him, she wasn’t the one to set him on fire. Of course she had loved him, and Otabek had loved her, too. Maybe they would have gotten married one day, have a family and grow old together; just because they worked well together. It would have been enough. But only if he had never learned what love felt like - real, honest, deep, painful love.

“Why do you tell me that now”, he murmured into Yuri’s hair.

“Because she used to be there for you”, the boy sobbed. “She was the one to- to cut your hair and I… I took that from her, now. I took everything from her. You. You should have been together. She loved you so much. When I met her, when I came to Almaty… I understood what Agape is. What it means to love and love s-so much that you give yourself up to make the one you love happy. I understood that Agape is really… so… terrible. B-because it only hurts people. And now here I am, taking you away from everyone, hurting them, your friends and your family, and  _ her _ and… and it hurts you too, it hurts you so much and is… is that a-all I can? H-hurt everyone?”

“That’s not true”, Otabek murmured. He was surprised himself about how calm his voice was. “You don’t. You’re good for me. You have always been. And she knows that, Yuri. She knows how much I love you and that I need you to live. When I left Almaty she knew I’d find you. She believed in me and this love I feel for you. You never hurt her. You gave her hope that I would be fine. And she was right, too.” He kissed Yuri’s temple and made Yuri look up with careful fingertips under a dainty chin. “I’m fine, Yuri. You make me.”

Golden lashed fluttered shut over green-blue eyes when Otabek leaned in and kissed Yuri. Slowly, carefully. He didn’t have to prove anything with that kiss. Yuri believed him. The way he kissed him back, soft and sweet, told Otabek.

He wasn’t fine, nor was Yuri. But they would be.

“I do what I can”, Yuri whispered when he broke the kiss. His cheeks glittered from tears and the flush of his face made him look younger, innocent. “You mean so much to me after all.” He smiled, his lips so pink and kissable and Otabek leaned in again, just because he could.

He held Yuri until the tears had dried.

“You’re beautiful like that”, Yuri murmured and ran his fingers through Otabek’s thick black locks. “With your hair longer. It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“Otabek?”, Yuri whispered. “You had fun today, didn’t you?”

He nodded without a moment of hesitation. “I did. Thank you.” He smiled, and he felt it. “But Yuri…”

“Hm?”

“Next time”, he said, “let me take you out for a proper date, okay?”

The blush on Yuri’s face was still a sweet pink when he smiled brightly at Otabek. “Okay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still not easy for them. Sorry.... u.u
> 
> Btw, the Bromeliad is a symbol of protection and/or passionate love, you can probably guess who'd give so much thought about a flower meant as a present for a coma patient who might not wake up ^^
> 
> I hope you liked it <3


	36. Killer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long, I'm sorry. It's very long tho *winks*
> 
> Please keep the tags in mind, this chapter is a little more extreme than what I wrote before...

Chapter 36: Killer

 

Yuri left in the evening. “Gotta get ready for the ‘shade”, he said, pressing his lips against Otabek’s.

“I’m finishing here and come pick you up”, Otabek said and Yuri smiled and kissed him again.

“No need to hurry”, the blonde murmured against his lips. “Try to get your room in order. I’ll take a taxi if you’re still busy later. Don’t worry.” The next kiss was softer, slow. Then Yuri repeated: “Don’t worry, okay?”

Otabek nodded and they both knew he was lying. He walked Yuri to the door, saw him leave. The taillights of the VW had just disappeared around the corner and Otabek missed Yuri so much already. With a heavy sigh he turned back to the room and got to work again.

A few hours later he looked over his room and it really was a lot nicer than before. Standing by the bathroom door he looked over the cupboard on the right wall, next to the fridge he had not plugged in yet because the cooling liquid needed to get back in place after being transported on the side. In the corner the small wooden table was completed with the two chairs, placed so that he could reach the kettle when it was on the cooking plate he had installed on the cupboard. Where his mattress had been was now a complete bed with frame and all and the dresser was pushed against the bathroom wall, the bromeliad placed on top of it. He had even managed to hang up the lamps, one replacing the bare bulb that had illuminated his room so far, the other a small spotlight next to his bed.

When he had put his clothes into the dresser from the suitcase he had found the picture again, the one he had taken from Sergej’s place. His guts twisted when he looked down on how the semen was smeared on Yuri’s pale tights, his pale pink flimsy negligé pushed up to reveal the round cheeks of his ass. Otabek felt guilty, so guilty staring down on the picture, because even like that Yuri was so beautiful. He wished he had never found the picture. It had caused nothing but pain for the both of them. With an exhale that felt like a sob he closed his fist around the paper until it was crumpled, then headed over to the table. He burned the picture in his new frying pan, flushing the ashes down the toilet. When the last piece was gone it felt like a weight had been taken from his shoulders and from his heart. He looked at himself in the mirror and for the first time in many, many weeks he didn’t feel only disgust. His hair was a mess and he looked tired, but at the same time he felt a little proud about what he saw -  _ who _ he saw. Yuri Plisetsky’s boyfriend. It felt good.

He texted Yuri that he was finished and could come over to pick him up in time. When he received a plain “Okay” he got dressed: black suit, white dress shirt, black tie. His leather shoes were still not completely dry so he went with the boots again. He worked some mousse into his hair, then combed it to the side. With his fingers he brushed over the sides Yuri had trimmed earlier. It looked neat and a lot better than when it had grown out so much. He needed to keep an eye on it.

The Grach MP-443 sat in the holster when he left his flat. Before closing the door he looked his room over and smiled. It was much nicer than before. Yuri would like it.

On the taxi drive over to Yuri’s place he stared out of the window. Things were going well lately. Sure, things were complicated, but the time he had spent with Yuri made everything look not quite as horrible. Even when they still had to get used to each other, learning how to resonate with each other, he felt like they could work things out. They had managed to survive on their own. But when they were together they could help each other be happy. Yuri was so good for him. And he felt like he could be there for Yuri too. If Yuri was an angel with one wing then he could give him his own single wing and together they could… fly. The thought made him chuckle lowly. He was so silly. So in love.

Yuri had him come upstairs. When he opened the door for him he was in a designer two-piece in soft white fabric that was cut in a way that left his ribs and flat stomach exposed. Dangling from his chest and wrapped around his waist and hips was a curb chain, dark and heavy with two big glittering ornaments that reminded Otabek of maces, sharp and spiky against too soft skin. The sight made him want to wrap his fingers around the pale exposed waist, pull Yuri close and keep him safe. The desire scared him. And not only because he felt it, but because others would feel it, too. People out there, people who didn’t want to protect Yuri, people who wanted to hurt him.

“Are you going to wear this?”, he asked a little breathless, skipping the greeting.

Yuri tilted his head. “Obviously.” His hair hung loose and straightened around his pretty face, his lips shimmering with lipgloss.

Otabek nodded. He wasn’t in a position to advise Yuri on his outfits. Compared to what he had seen Yuri in occasionally this was actually a rather tame outfit. No leather, no fishnets, no seductive lace and still it was twisting Otabek’s guts. Yuri was too beautiful like this. Too pure, too vulnerable. Otabek stared at the chain against the porcelain rib cage and wished he could lock Yuri up where he was safe. Where no one would see this lithe, fragile body. Where no one could imagine how it must feel to touch the skin, white as cream, so soft and warm. No one but Otabek. He could sacrifice himself and his sanity if he could keep Yuri safe here. He’d hold him so that no one ever would dare to touch him. But of course he wasn’t making the rules.

“Is that a problem?”, Yuri asked, his voice a bit sharper than usual, so Otabek shook his head, defeated.

“You’re just so beautiful”, he murmured. It made Yuri smile and the smile made Otabek want to scream.

In the living room there was a bottle of wine open on the coffee table, red like blood and Yuri poured himself another glass, shrugging when Otabek declined his offer for one. The liquid stuck to his lips like lipstick and colored his tongue red when it peeked out to lick the fluid from his lips. Otabek found himself unable to look away.

“Did you finish the furniture?”, Yuri asked and sat down. Next to the couch was a pair of shoes that Otabek doubted would go with the white outfit: black leather high heels with an eye-catching silver tiger ornament attached to the top of the heel and more chains. Yuri was visibly struggling to get into them, like they were really tight.

“Yes”, Otabek murmured. “It’s all in place. You’ll like it when you come over next time.” The question hung in the air like smoke.

“Probably not tonight, though”, Yuri said, then moaned with relief when he finally got into the left shoe. Surprisingly enough when he stood Otabek found it looked really nice with the white two-piece. The high heels made Yuri look even taller and leaner than usually even with the loose pants. “I’m going to have breakfast with a client in the morning, so I need to sleep here tonight.” He gave Otabek a smile, before whispering: “Soon. I promise.”

When Yuri had emptied his wine he got into a violet fur coat that was so tasteless that Otabek grimaced but somehow Yuri managed to look absolutely stunning in it. It was a mystery to him how he combined the worst pieces and make them an ensemble of ravishing beauty.

“I had to wash my hair again”, Yuri explained grinning, when they were in the car. Otabek remembered the way over to the club but he had the navigation system on nevertheless, the audio output muted though. “It smelled like pressboard.” He chuckled, then, suddenly, fell silent. “Hey”, he murmured after a moment, his voice low and raspy, insecure. “About last night…”

Otabek shot him a glance. “It’s okay”, he said, looking back forward again. There was nothing to talk about. A lot had happened that night and Yuri had not been himself after consuming first cocaine and then the weed. It had been painful, but they were over with that. No need to stir up the issue again.

Yuri shook his head though. “It’s not, Otabek.“ The way he said it sounded apologetic but calm. “I said horrible things. It’s all a little blurry, but I made you cry and I’m very sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, I was just so overwhelmed with everything. I blamed you for… I accused you for things everyone else did to me. I just wanted to tell you that I know you are honest. And that I trust you.” When Otabek looked over to him again Yuri smiled and Otabek took his hand, squeezing it lightly. When Yuri placed a kiss on Otabek’s knuckles his lips left a trace of shimmering lip gloss.

The Nightshade was packed already when they arrived. It was close to midnight and the main act would start their gig soon, a duo of DJs from Finland Otabek didn’t know. “I can show you around”, Yuri had offered and Otabek followed him inside, half curious about the VIP area, half suspicious about the people who had access to Yuri in here. He was relieved when he found Boris and Maksim at the front door, greeting them with a few words before excusing him to stay on Yuri’s trail, promising to come out later again to have a chat.

The Nightshade was fuller than the first time Otabek had been in there which made sense considering back then it had been a private event. The air was hot and sticky, the spotlights flashing over the crowd in pink and blue and violet. The bass made Otabek’s chest vibrate as he followed Yuri through the club. The people parted before him like a curtain, like he was a king, head held high, and his peasants stepped aside to afford him passage. Otabek saw the gazes flitting over to them, tugging on Yuri’s presence and drinking in his aura. Glances full of adoration, envy and lust. The light played on Yuri’s hair, reflecting the colors, tinting it as purple as the coat. It was like he wasn’t human here, like they had entered another realm, the realm of the fae and Yuri was their king. It was as mesmerizing as it was scary.

The VIP area was roped-off with the same violet ropes as before and Otabek was relieved to see Egor standing guard. He greeted Otabek with a nod as he lifted the rope to let them through and Otabek nodded back. It was good to see so many familiar faces here. At the same time he couldn’t let his guard down.

There was a small bar in the back of the VIP area and Yuri headed over there ignoring the few other people lurking on the couches who looked over to him but didn’t do more than mouth a voiceless “Hello” over the thrumming of the music.

“Want something?”, Yuri called towards Otabek and he shook his head. He wasn't here for fun. Yuri seemed to have the same thought, if his frown was anything to go by. He turned to the bartender, a petite black haired girl with the Orlov crest inked to her shoulder and ordered something Otabek couldn’t hear. The girl shot him a smile, then another to Otabek and with skillful and efficient movements prepared two glasses. In one of them she filled cut limes, mashed the juice out of them, then added crushed ice cubes, brown sugar and equal parts of vodka, black currant juice and after shaking it thoroughly cola. In the second glass she filled ice cubes, some light yellow syrup, something whitish and soda, then decorated both drinks with a slice of lime and a thick black straw each and handed them over to Yuri.

“Here”, the blonde said with a pleased grin. “Have some fun for once.” He clinked their glasses together and sucked on his straw, laughing loud when Otabek looked into his glass suspicious. “It’s just honey syrup, almond milk and soda, Erasyl, calm down, I won’t poison you!”

“No alcohol?”

Yuri grinned. “No alcohol.”

Otabek hummed and took a sip. The drink tasted like Yuri smelt, sweet and smooth and pleasant. He liked it. It’s what he imagined kissing Yuri’s chest tasted like. Taking another sip he wondered if Yuri knew.

One of the other guests of the VIP area approached Yuri, a young man with a beard and a curvy brunette clinging to his arm. Otabek stayed behind as Yuri turned around and talked to them, shrugging off his coat after some minutes and revealing his white costume. The man didn’t react but the woman gasped and stared at Yuri’s pale stomach for a moment before she composed herself again. Other people came to talk to Yuri through the course of the evening, none of which Otabek found suspicious, so after finishing his drink he headed over to where Egor stood guard. The next set had started, the main act Otabek supposed, which made it hard to have a conversation, but Egor wasn’t a very talkative person to start with so after Otabek politely asked about Egor’s brother Iosif who apparently was in the office upstairs keeping an eye on the security cameras they just stood there and watched the crowd.

After some time Yuri joined him again. He seemed a little annoyed. “I hate smalltalk,”, he explained, “Daddy’s so much better with it than I am.” He offered Otabek another drink who declined. “You don’t have to hang out here all night”, Yuri said, running his fingers through his silky hair. Otabek wanted to do that, too. “I mean you can go home or somewhere else, I’ll just give you a call when I want you to pick me up.”

Otabek thought about it for a moment. His initial worry that Yuri could be in some kind of danger had vanished into thin air. There was probably no person here who didn’t know who Yuri was, or more who he pretended to be: the _ vor’ _ s son. No one would harm him here, in his very own territory. Even without the bouncers and the staff there was hardly a chance that someone could even approach Yuri without risking a walloping. But even in case someone tried something Yuri sure would be safe. Otabek remembered in detail how he had started the fight with Dima’s idiot friend and how fast Boris had plucked him out of the crowd.

What was bothering him more was how people looked at him, Otabek. Of course he attracted some attention. He was the new guy after all, a stranger who suddenly popped up behind Katyusha and followed him around. People must suspect he was some kind of bodyguard or babysitter for the boy and frequently he caught someone scrutinizing him. Not that the looks he got bothered him. The problem was how close he was to Yuri. Whatever he did he was monitored by countless eyes and if he made a mistake they would notice. He realized that staying close to Yuri was indeed more dangerous than keeping a certain distance from him. The closer he followed Yuri the higher were the chances he gave himself away as more than just Katyusha’s driver. There was no guarantee that Orlov didn’t have someone keeping an eye on him. Maybe it really was a good idea to leave Yuri alone just for some time at least.

He looked at the blonde again and nodded. “I suppose I’ll just wait outside. Give me a call if something’s up.”

Yuri nodded and turned away without a word and in that moment Otabek realized that Yuri had had the same thought. They had acted way too fond in the short time after they had arrived already. They needed to pay attention. That’s why Yuri had sent him away.

He had barely made a step out of the VIP area when someone came to stop right in his way. It took Otabek a moment to look the boy over. Under his mop of red hair sat glasses with a brazen frame. His eyes were a watery blue and his face dappled with tiny freckles.

“Dima”, Otabek gasped and it made the boy twitch.

“Hey”, he said, barely audible over the music. He was small, smaller then Otabek remembered and pale. His cheeks were flushed, probably from dancing, but there was no joy in the way he smiled as Otabek. “You… you’re look good. Did you have your hair cut?”

It was a poor attempt of small talk. Otabek didn’t buy it. He frowned and moved to avoid Dima, but the boy grasped his sleeve with thin fingers.

“Please”, he begged, his hands trembling. “I just want to, like, talk. Let me explain, it won’t take long.”

The plea in the blue eyes was reminding him of how unfair he had treated the boy. It felt like another life when he had scared him away on Yuri’s birthday. He had been unfair and mean and he did feel guilty about it. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to drag someone innocent into his life but maybe he owed Dima at least an explanation.

“Alright”, he hummed after a second. “But not in here.”

Dima followed him close as Otabek made his way through the crowd, then outside. Boris spotted him but before he could greet him the smile died on his lips when he saw the tension in Otabek’s clenched jaw. When he caught sight of Dima he lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything and let them pass without interruption.

Otabek walked down the street a little until the music from the club wasn’t audible anymore, then sat down on a low brick wall. Dima sat down next to him, leaving almost a little too much space between them. Only when he tried to suppress a shudder Otabek realized what Dima was wearing: his skinny legs were dressed in light gray jeans that had purposefully been ripped at the knees and above, showing pale skin covered in goosebumps. Dima’s arms didn’t look better, the thin rust brown tank top doing nothing to shield him from the cold. Otabek looked down on the tiny wrists adorned with thin black leather strings. Dima looked so vulnerable like this, trembling and freezing and looking up at him with those big, pretty eyes. He was cute, Otabek thought, like a small animal. Like he needed protection. With a sigh Otabek shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Dima’s skinny shoulders. The blush accentuated the freckles on Dima’s high cheek bones and he murmured a “Thank you”, ducking his head. His hair shone like copper and before Otabek knew he ran his hand through the wavy strands. Dima bit his lip.

“I… I didn’t expect to run into you”, the boy murmured, staring down on the asphalt between his feet. 

For now Otabek decided to let him talk. He folded his hands in his lap, wishing desperately for a cigarette just so his hands were busy, but he couldn’t go back and ask Boris for one, not now with Dima crumbling into a small embarrassed pile of copper.

“I just saw you and I… I don’t know what I was thinking. Speaking to you like that. I don’t have a… plan or something, I just… The way things, like, happened last time… I think it was bad and that we both… Well, I don’t know about you, but I was thinking a lot about last time and how things ended. Maybe you were right, you know, I don’t… I didn’t… It’s just that I really, really… liked you…  _ do like you _ and the way I ran away was… I regret it. A lot. And… maybe I just wanted to apologize. For being so pushy.” He shot Otabek a glance, then pulled the jacket tighter around his shoulders. “I saw you with him”, he murmured, frowning. “The club owner's son I mean. He’s… gorgeous. I… I see how I’m not what you prefer, like, in a guy. I just thought that we got along so fine and then all of a sudden you… With Oleg, I mean, it wasn’t fair of him to be so offensive but-” He stopped in the middle of the sentence, then looked over to Otabek through his thick orange lashes. “Wait, are you… is he… is he your boyfriend? Is that why you were so angry at Oleg, because he called him… Because he insulted him?”

“No”, Otabek said, low and calm and insistent. “The situation is a lot more complicated than that. And I am not sure if you should know more about this. That I attacked your friend was inconsiderate and precipitately and I apologize, not for hurting him, but for scaring you. You have nothing to do with this, Dima, and I am very sorry. I did think about my behaviour afterwards and I am aware that I treated you unfairly. I was mean because I lost my composure. It wasn’t your fault, but mine entirely and I hope I didn’t hurt you too much. But Katyusha Anatolievich has nothing to do with this. It’s entirely the flaw of my character that is to blame in this and I hope you can accept my apology.”

Dima nodded his head lightly. “But you’re interested in him”, he guessed, then explained: “I saw you back there. You stayed so close to him, like, the entire time.”

Otabek stared at the boy with a calm expression but in his head the thoughts were racing. Was it so obvious? Had Dima figured it out so fast?

“I don’t know what you mean”, he answered, his voice calm when he felt nothing like it. Instead panic started stirring up in his insides. No one was supposed to know, not even someone as unrelated to the bratva as Dima. He had to convince him that he was seeing ghosts, or there was no way to make sure Dima remained quiet about this. No way that didn’t involve things Otabek really didn’t want to do to this innocent boy.

“You follow him around like a puppy”, Dima said with a sad smile, then shrugged. “That means something. I know because I used to follow you around…”

_ Shitshitshit. _ Otabek swallowed. He couldn’t possibly say the truth. “It’s not like this”, he heard his voice say and Dima looked up at him surprised. And then he realized that he could very well say the thing that was closest to the truth after all. With a frown he rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt. The healing wound on his left ring finger stung a little, but he ignored it. Instead he pushed the fabric away from the ink under his skin. “Do you know what that means?”, he asked, but Dima shook his head staring down on the eagle and the diamond. “Of course you don’t know”, Otabek concluded. “You’re not from Moscow. But you could ask anyone who grew up here and they immediately knew who they are dealing with. The truth is that I am part of a bratva,”, Dima gasped, his eyes widening, “and Katyusha Anatolievich’s father is not only the owner of this nightclub. He is, in fact, the  _ vor _ . I’m sure you know what that means.”

Dima stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re in the mafia?”

“That’s a way to put it.”

Dima was scared, it was obvious from the way he held his breath and by all means Otabek understood why. “This is why I didn’t want you to get involved with me”, he spoke as softly as possible. “I’m not good company, no matter how fine we got along. You can comprehend, can’t you?”

Dima nodded, looking him over. “Is… is that a gun?”, he asked when he noticed the Grach in the holster hidden in the shadows besides Otabek’s chest.

“Yes”, he answered, hearing Dima’s breath hitch. “I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t be scared.”

“Are you… some kind of hitman then? Or, like, a bodyguard for the… for Katyusha Anatolievich?”

“I’m actually only his driver.”

“Why do you have a gun then?”

At that Otabek smiled bitterly. “This is Moscow”, he said like it explained everything.

“Did you… have you ever killed someone?”, Dima asked, his voice getting weaker as his eyes darted from the MP-443 to the tattoo to Otabek’s eyes.

“Not yet.” He didn’t have any intention to kill someone, but maybe at some point it would be inevitable. He wouldn’t hesitate if it was to protect Yuri.

“Erasyl”, Dima whispered and his cheeks were red when he looked at him intensely. “If you are not… with Katyusha Anatolievich… Do you think I could have a chance? With you?”

It almost was painful how the hope shimmered on Dima’s flustered face. Otabek exhaled slowly. Dima was so cute, so soft and yearning, it was a shame. 

“Even after what I just told you you are asking me this?”, he murmured, watching how Dima repositioned himself on the bricks, wriggling a little closer to him. It was heartbreaking to witness.

“I was honest with you”, he said. “I do like you. You are… you are a good person, Erasyl, even with… that.” He touched the inked skin with soft fingertips. “I still think that you are, like, gentle. And, and calm and… handsome. And I don’t care if you are a bad guy or something, because I know you aren’t. I really… like you. A lot.” And with that he looked up at Otabek and there was so much fondness in his eyes, so much warmth but Otabek couldn’t do it. He knew he could just lean down and kiss Dima, because Dima was begging for it with his eyes and his shaky voice and his soft words, but Otabek couldn’t. He knew he was breaking the boy’s heart - again! - but Dima was so sweet, so innocent, so honest and everything about him was so incredibly wrong.

“I’m sorry”, Otabek whispered and pulled his arm away from the soft fingertips that were still resting on his tattoo. “I cannot do that. I am sorry, Dima.”

With a tiny, bitter smile the redhead sighed and let his head hang. “You live ‘for  _ him _ and only  _ him’ _ , right? That’s what you said last time. The friend you lost.” He got up, shrugging Otabek’s jacket off and looked down on Otabek. “You still love him.”

Otabek took the jacket and looked up at him. There were no tears in Dima’s eyes. There was no conflict between them, no fear, no rejection, not like last time. But they both felt that this was it: the end of this fragile friendship they’d had. The end of Dima’s hope and Otabek’s guilt. They would never talk to each other again, pretend they didn’t know each other, because in fact they didn’t. If they ever met again they would be perfect strangers. Like from two different worlds. It all ended when Otabek said:

“I will always love him.”

Dima nodded, then turned away and went back to the club. Otabek stayed behind sitting on the low wall and watching Dima disappear. He didn’t feel sad and he didn’t feel relieved. He felt nothing for this boy. Not anymore. All he had now was Yuri.

 

**В**

 

Boris held out his pack of cigarettes when Otabek approached him, but he politely refused so the man put the cigarettes back into his jacket. He was alone, Maksim was probably inside. “You looked troubled earlier,”, he stated, “but now not so much. Wasn’t that the little fox who hit on you a few weeks ago?”

Otabek nodded. “Things ended kind of awkward last time and we both felt we needed to sort some things out.”

“So, are you a couple or something?” Boris asked and the scepsis was audible in his voice.

“No,”, Otabek huffed, “of course not. He wasn’t my type last time and he isn’t my type now. I just told him that. Again.”

With a hum Boris let the issue go. “By the way”, he changed the topic. “Have you heard about Kazimir? The guy from Livny?” When Otabek only frowned Boris laughed and hit his shoulder. “I’m sorry, brother, you know, I tend to forget that you are new around here and don’t know every single leech that sticks to the gutters. He’s one of the boys from the countryside, pretty rough, not very bright, but did solid work when you needed him, he’s apt with the knife. Caused some trouble here and there, but knew how to talk his way out of things.” Boris shrugged. “Anyway, turns out he got on the lam with the trunk full of coke, Orlov’s coke, goes without saying. So we’re supposed to keep an eye open, not likely he will take the stuff back to the boondocks, but try and sell off here, the clients are here anyway. Orlov’s kinda pissed, you know, so he’s probably cautious. Keep it in mind, will ya? If you come across someone suspicious you know what to do.”

And Otabek did know. Stealing from a vor was probably the most idiotic idea one could have. It meant the man could await a punishment that set a warning example to anyone involved with the bratva in any way imaginable. That Kazimir guy was fucked and Otabek couldn’t imagine why someone would so something that stupid other than not coming up with a more idiot proof way to realize a death wish. He knew because it was what he intended to do sooner or later: steal from Orlov. Just that it wasn’t drugs Otabek would take from him, but something much more valuable. Katyusha.

“I’ll keep my eyes open”, he said, ignoring the shiver down his spine.

 

**с**

 

When he laid eyes on Yuri again everything else was forgotten. It was like the worrisome thoughts and bad feelings all got swept away when Yuri joined them outside, his hair a little out of order and his cheeks flushed from the club. His belly was still so flat and white under the chains. The violet fur of the coat brushed against Yuri’s white neck. All Otabek could think about was how much he needed Yuri by his side.

“Boris, Maksim”, he greeted the bouncers with a happy smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t manage to join you earlier, people chewed my ears off inside and Egor just didn’t want to throw them out.” He chuckled and Boris gave him his widest smile and a “No problem.”

“Maksim, how are the girls doing?”, Yuri asked, taking the cigarette Boris offered him and inhaling the smoke deeply.

“Better”, Maksim answered. “I think they can go to school on monday again although they are not very excited about it. Zhenya’s relieved though. By the way, thank you again for taking care of him on his birthday. Haven’t seen the boy in such good spirits for years.It’s all thanks to both of you.” He looked from Yuri to Otabek and smiled a little.

“‘twas my pleasure”, Yuri said tilting his head. “I have a soft spot for the little devil. I’m glad he had a good time.” He yawned throwing his head back then hummed and made his neck pop. “Erasyl, do you mind taking me home? I’m really tired and my feet hurt like fucking hell in those goddamn shoes…”

Otabek nodded. “As you wish.” He’d had a feeling that the shoes would be a problem when he had watched Yuri getting into them earlier tonight already. They looked good, no doubt, but he suspected they were at least one size too small. He was surprised Yuri had held out so long in them.

“Sorry for leaving the work to you guys for some more hours”, Yuri said with the high pitched fake chuckle.

“At least our shoes are more comfortable”, Boris joked and gave Otabek a firm handshake, Maksim following the example. “See you soon, brother.”

“Good night”, Otabek answered and followed Yuri who headed over to the car already.

“Motherfucking…”, he hissed when Otabek opened the passenger door and Yuri fell into the seat. 

“Why didn’t you get them a size bigger?”, Otabek said with a low laugh although of course he knew how bad feet could hurt from shoes. He’d had so much trouble with his skates he’d gotten when he had moved to Canada, JJ had literally bonded with him over applying ointment to Otabek’s wounded feet.

“I bought them when I still was a 38, but when I grew I turned out a 39 and now they’re a little small. I love them so much though.”

“They're nice”, Otabek said, then closed the door behind Yuri and walked over to the driver's side.

Moscow was calm and dark at that hour of the night. It must have rained; the asphalt was reflecting the lights of the car following the R8 down the shimmering street, doubling the spots of light like four fairies dancing in the rear mirror. 

“Who was that boy earlier?”, Yuri asked suddenly. His voice didn't sound suspicious, just curious.

Otabek shrugged. “Someone I had business with when I came to Moscow earlier this year”, he answered, keeping his eyes on the street ahead of them.

Yuri hummed, then added: “He touched you.”

Now Otabek did shoot Yuri a look. “What do you mean?”

Grimacing Yuri leaned back in the seat. “What I said. That motherfucker touched you.”

“He did not.” If anything Otabek had touched Dima, not the other way around. Dima was way too shy for that.

“He grabbed you when you wanted to avoid him”, Yuri said, his voice sharp. “What did he want from you?”

“Yuri…” Otabek bit back a laugh. What the hell was Yuri hinting to? Was he jealous? “He just wanted to talk”, he explained, slowing the car down a little. The car behind them came a little closer, too, but then reduced speed so it kept enough distance to not risking a crash. “We hadn't seen each other since I dumped him, and he wanted an explanation.”

Otabek knew the shimmer in Yuri's eyes when he glared at him. It was the point where annoyance turned into anger. “You were dating??!”

“No”, Otabek answered very calm and very clear. “He wanted to but I said that there's someone else. And that there was only this one person for me, now and forever.”

“Why didn't he understand it last time then? Why did he not keep his filthy little hands off you?”

“Maybe because normal people can not comprehend how much I love you.” He looked at Yuri, his silly, beautiful, angry Yuri. “Because it’s not normal how much I love you.”The blush on Yuri’s cheeks was visible even with only the streetlights and the illumination from the car behind them. Yuri stared at him speechless. Otabek couldn’t keep a low chuckle escaping his throat. “You’re jealous?”

“Am not”, Yuri said too quick. Crossing his arms before his chest and pouting he looked like the boy Otabek had become friends with in Barcelona. So young.

“There’s no reason to”, Otabek made sure, looking ahead again. “When I said ‘now and forever’ I meant it.”

There was a moment of silence, then Yuri whispered: “I love you, too.”

The little smile seemed stuck on Otabek’s lips when he steered the car through the commercial district. It felt like there was only him and Yuri in the world, if he pretended the car behind them wasn’t there. It was like the night belonged to only them. Just as they had promised each other: a few hours between midnight and dawn, between the Nightshade and Yuri’s apartment, between here and there, the lights of the city like stars surrounding them. The low hum of the car like the purr of a giant black cat slipping through the darkness, creatures of the night with glowing eyes. The R8 and the other car.

The R8 and the car behind them.

Slipping through the darkness, silent and invisible, only lights shimmering, reflecting on the wet asphalt like fairy lights.

Following them through the darkness.

The smile died on Otabek’s lips. The air cooled down. Breathing deeply he slowed down a little, then a little more. The other car adapted to the decreasing speed. Otabek slowed down more.

“What are you doing?”, Yuri asked when they were slower than was normal, but Otabek hushed him with a “Shh” and a quick gesture, his eyes fixed on the rear mirror.

The other car should have run past them by now, they were remarkably slow. But it stayed behind them in a distance so that Otabek couldn’t make out any details. Something in his chest tightened and Yuri seemed to sense it, sitting up in agitation. “Otabek”, he whispered, swallowed audibly, but Otabek shook his head. He picked up speed, then took the next turn right, then one left, and one left again. The other car stayed on their track. There was no doubt now.

“We’re being followed.” And he had an idea who it might be.

“By whom? Why?” Yuri sounded anxious, turning in his seat, his breath hectic.

“I don’t know yet.” With a deep inhale and exhale Otabek steered the car into a parking lot in front of a coin laundry that of course was closed by now but still had the light shine through the dirty front window, then stopped the Audi. The other car stopped as well, some distance away.

“Give me the gloves in the glove compartment.”

Yuri stared at him. “What? Why?” And when Otabek just kept monitoring the other car in the rear mirror he added: “What are you doing?”

“Give me the gloves.”

The problem was his finger, the one he had scratched open. It hurt when he moved it, not too much, but if would if he’d fight. They would probably notice and use it against him. It wasn’t a major disadvantage but if they were two or even more he couldn’t let them see he had a flaw. Considering they chose a direct face off he couldn’t suppose they were any less than the maximum that had space in the car. Five people then. He could oppose five people if they weren’t too well trained. He had a gun, in the worst case he’d use that. But before he didn’t know who they were and why they followed Yuri he’d rather not use the gun. He’d have to face them without it first.

“Give me the gloves.”

Yuri’s hands trembled when he opened the glove compartment and took the black leather gloves out, handing them over to Otabek. “What are you doing?”, he whispered, obviously scared now.

“Yuri”, Otabek tried to keep his voice calm and steady. The gloves felt cool and soft around his fingers. “Once I left the car, you are taking the driver’s seat. If anything happens to me, you flee. Make sure you get away, make sure you are safe, then you can call an ambulance-”

“Otabek, no!”

“This is important!” He took Yuri’s hands in his and looked him deep in the eye. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. I protect you. If I fail-”

“No!”

“- I want you to drive away, fast but safely. Don’t get out of the car, don’t try to help me. You need to be safe first.”

“Otabek, please!”

“I need you to be safe. Go back to the Nightshade, then call an ambulance, then tell Boris, Maksim and Egor. They will help you.”

“Otabek…”

“Promise me, Yuri. Promise me that you will go to the Nightshade first.”

Tears fell from Yuri’s eyes when he nodded. “I promise.”

The smile felt strange on his face in such a situation. Otabek let go of Yuri’s hands and straightened his back. “I’m going to protect you, Yuri. I’m not letting them get you this time.” He watched green eyes overflowing with tears as he got out of the car. When he slammed the door shut and heard the doors lock his fear stayed back in the car.

The asphalt crumbled under his heavy boots as he slowly approached the car. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when the doors opened and the occupants exited the car. They were four: the two guys Otabek had noticed in the theater already and two more, with dull faces and bulky necks. Otabek came to a halt halfway between the two cars and watched the guys approaching, the driver leading the way. He was most likely some kind of leader to the group. He was the first one who spoke, too, stopping some meters away from Otabek.

“Nice quiet night”, he said with a grin.

Otabek didn’t play along. “What do you want?”

With a frown the guy took another step. “You’re not from here. Korean, they say.”

Otabek remained silent.

“Pretty impressive reputation you have there. They turn little boys into killers, they say.” He huffed a laugh. “Don’t look much like a killer to me. More like a mangy dog.” His friends laughed in the background. “Or like a poofy with the nice tie and haircut. Like eating ass?”

It was remarkable how much the situation resembled the night they had been attacked back then, when everything had begun. Four guys cornering him and Yuri for no apparent reason. Just that this time he was prepared. He had taken measurements to make sure Yuri was safe and he wasn’t the weak inexperienced boy anymore who had let those guys beat him into a coma. He couldn’t tell if they knew how to fight, but he knew that he could. And he’d give his everything to have tonight end differently than the day before his birthday years ago. Tonight he would not fall. He would not fail Yuri again.

“What do you want?”, Otabek asked again. 

“Oh”, the guy said. “We just wanted to say hello. Noticed you hang out with that pretty little tramp a lot lately.”

“Who told you where to find us?”

At that the guy snorted. “We’re wolves, y’know. Smell a nasty wet cunt from miles away. Gonna stick my dick into that plush little pussy and feed the sweet angel a good load of jizz before letting my friends here have a ride.” From a few more steps back Otabek heard the three others yowl in excitement, but what would have made him blind in anger before just left him with a familiar pulsing red in the corners of his eyes and a pleasant tension in his arms, shoulders and jaw.

“Leave.” His voice was a growl, the one word making two of the guys in the back duck their heads. When he said it again, “Leave”, one of them, a dumpy guy with a woolen hat, took a step back.

“I don't think we can leave without having a bite first”, the leader said and let his knuckles crack.

“I’m asking you one last time.” Otabek looked at them, first the leader, then the bearded guy, then the guy with the woolen hat, then the guy with the denim jacket, then the leader again. “Leave.”

“Who do you think you are?!”, the leader yelled, then turned to his friends. “Let’s show this motherfucker-”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Otabek was there with a few fast steps, sinking his fist in the leader’s guts. With spluttering saliva he bent over, not even able to keep his balance, toppling over and collapsing to his knees with a gurgling sound. Otabek rammed his boot against the guy’s shoulder, sending him to the ground. He saw the bearded guy storming towards him and evaded the punch, ducking behind him and placing a kick into his knee pit. The bearded guy fell forward, struggling to get up, but Otabek was over him already. His fist collided with the guy’s temple, then again, then again. He only stopped when he saw the guy with the denim jacket getting closer, turning just in the right moment to avoid a short metal cane. The guy was smart enough to turn quickly and keep Otabek at a certain distance, or at least his fists. He probably hadn’t expected that Otabek could lift his leg so high and just kick the cane out of his hand with one well placed kick against his forearm. With an almost nice sound the cane fell to the wet asphalt that shimmered in the light of the closed coin laundry.

“You bastard!!”, the bearded guy yelled, struggling up onto his feet again. 

Otabek took a few seconds to withdraw a little and bring a distance between himself and the two other guys. The fourth guy, the one with the woolen hat had retreated, standing close to the car, ready to elope. He was no threat at all. The leader had come to his senses again, kneeling on all fours farther back, but at least momentarily not able to fight.

When the bearded guy stormed forward again, the guy in the denim jacket right behind him, Otabek ducked away. With a few steps he was on the other side again, where the metal cane had fallen to the ground. The attackers stopped in their track when they realized Otabek had successfully lured them away from their previous position so he could take the cane for himself. Without a second of hesitation Otabek took the offensive. The bearded guy was too big to avoid the metal cane. Taking some serious blows to his arms and shoulders he backed away howling. If Otabek had aimed at his head he would probably be dead already. He collapsed on the ground groaning, so Otabek focused on the guy in the denim jacket. He stood with a few meters away with a shocked expression and when Otabek took a step closer he just screamed and turned to run back to the car.

“Vadim, get over here!! That asshole is a killer!!”, the guy with the woolen hat yelled. “Ivan, Ivan!! Let’s get out of here!!

The bearded guy managed to get up, holding his left arm with the right and stumbled over to the car.

“Ivan!!!”, Otabek heard the one with the hat scream when he turned around to the leader of the gang. 

The leader had turned around sitting on the wet asphalt, bent over. When he noticed Otabek stepping closer he looked up with a grimace.

Behind him he heard three car doors being slammed shut and the car speeding away, crumbles of asphalt spluttering from the traction of the tires.

“So”, Otabek said, coming to a halt in front of the leader. “Ivan, right?”

“Listen, man”, the other said, his voice rough. “I think we can talk about this and find a solution that everyone will benefit from.”

One of Otabek’s eyebrows rose. “Do you think so?”

“Yeah, listen, how about we team up on this? I don’t want to take anything from you. We could, you know, have a share.”

Otabek didn’t like where this was going, but he remained silent.

“I know what you want. I knew Sergej, who had the job before you. I know you want to bang the kitten. We have the same goal, buddy.”

Blood rushed in Otabek’s ears. His jaw clenched and his breath burned in his lungs.

“I’ll let you go first. I’ll choke the little skank with my dick so he doesn’t scream while you’re at it.”

With a twitch of his wrist the cane was tossed aside, the ring of metal against asphalt too loud in the darkness.

“You like that, huh?”, Ivan said, his grin pally. “Or you like them loud? I’ll hold his little ankles for you, spreading those pretty legs. I hear he’s flexible, taking dick from any angle and in any hole. We can switch places, giving that dirty slut what he deserves. Only you and me, gotta ruin that sweet cunt until the bitch can’t move, ‘til it’s all loose and dripping with cum and piss and bl-”

Otabek had never been that angry in his life. Not when he had seen Jessenin harass Yuri right before his eyes, not when he had found the photos in Sergej’s flat. Never. He hadn’t had an idea he could be so incredibly angry. And all his anger, this incredibly deep and powerful wrath he channeled in one single punch. Blood splattered from Ivan’s face, his mouth and nose exploding in a red mess, not unlike the red that tinted Otabek’s field of vision. He toppled backwards, but Otabek had him by the collar, his fist colliding with the blood-smeared mess that had been a face mere seconds before. He couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t stop. So he punched him again and again and again until the weak attempts of fightback ceased and there was a mess of blood and spit and tears collecting on the black leather of Otabek’s gloves, squirts of the mixture of body fluids on his suit and face. 

“Please”, Ivan whined, blood bubbling from his lips. “Don’t kill me.”

Abruptly Otabek stopped. Right. He couldn’t kill him. He really, really wanted to, the guy deserved it after what he had said he wanted to do to Yuri. He had practically begged for it. But Otabek couldn’t do it. Because death was not for him to give. Not after he had learned what it was like to die. Not after what everyone had gone through because back then those guys had as good as killed him. Death was not something for humans to give. Not for him at least. He was not like them. He was  _ not like them _ .

“No”, he said. With a fierce motion he got up on his feet again, never letting go of Ivan’s collar. “No, you are not going to die. Not yet.” With fast steps he made his way over to the R8, dragging Ivan who half crawled with him.

Yuri stared at them with wide eyes from the driver’s seat. In the light of the coin laundry the tracks of his tears shimmered like the asphalt.

“Come out”, he said, gesturing with his free hand. After a moment of hesitation Yuri unlocked the car and opened the door. His eyes darted from Otabek to Ivan and back again as he emerged from the Audi. When Otabek hurled Ivan’s trembling form on the ground to Yuri’s feet, the blonde winced.

“Apologize to him.” With a kick of his boots in Ivan’s side he repeated his demand: “I said apologize!”

Ivan whined, curling into a ball on the cold ground. “I’m sorry”, he wailed, then sobbed when Otabek kicked him again.

“What for?”

“Everything, everything!! For calling you a slut. For calling you a skank! I’m sorry!”

“Is that all?”

“No, no!! I’m sorry for… for saying those things about you, for following you and wanting to… to do those things to you, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t- I’m sorry!”

“What things did you say that you are sorry for?”

“Everything!” Ivan twitched every time Otabek spoke and every time his voice sounded more desperate. “I’m sorry for saying that I want to fuck you. I’m sorry for saying that I want to hurt you doing so. I’m sorry for saying that I want to…”

“Rape.”

“...rape you. I’m sorry for saying that you deserved it.”

“Cum and piss and blood.”

“Cum and piss and… I’m sorry, I’m sorry!! Please, please don’t-”

“Enough!” Otabek grabbed the guy’s collar dragging him away from the car. He threw Ivan on the ground a good distance away. Towering over him he glared down on the man. “You will never, ever approach Katyusha again. You will never even think of him again. If I ever see your disgusting face again I’m going to kill you and I’ll do it very slow and very painful. Tell that to your friends. Tell that to your boss. I will kill everybody who dares to offend Katyusha. Do you understand that?”

“Y-Yes”, Ivan hissed, crawling backwards on the ground. Otabek was ready to turn around and leave it be when all of a sudden Ivan’s hand darted to his ankle and pulled a knife from a hidden sheath. The blade was a good handspan long, the edge shimmering sharply in the twilight. He was a lot faster than Otabek had expected after the beating he had given him. Jumping to his feet he closed the distance, the knife pointing in the direction of Otabek’s chest. He froze though when he looked right into the muzzle of the Grach.

“Drop the knife”, Otabek said, calm and composed. He should have expected something like that. Thugs like Ivan didn’t just accept humiliation.

“Fuck”, Ivan said, the knife clattering on the floor. For a moment Otabek wondered why he hadn’t pulled out the knife earlier, but then he remembered how he had crouched over Ivan when he had punched him. The guy hadn’t had an opportunity to reach for the blade. So he had played along and apologized to Yuri, waiting for his opportunity to strike. It was a ridiculous attempt though. Maybe if he had waited until Otabek had turned away…

“Don’t do this!”, Ivan begged, slowly raising his hands. 

Without a word Otabek released the security lock, a low  _ click _ in the silence of the night.

“Please, you got this all wrong!”

“I don’t think so.” Before Ivan could say one more word Otabek lowered his gun and fired a precise shot. The bullet pierced right through Ivan’s right knee cap. With a yowl the man fell to his knees, screaming in pain as the damaged knee hit the asphalt with full force.

Otabek exhaled slowly, then with a fierce motion struck the barrel of the gun against Ivan’s temple. The guy fell sidewards unconscious, blood seeping from his knee.

Oddly calm Otabek secured the gun and put it back into the holster. He picked up the knife from the ground, pushed it under his belt, then turned and headed back to the car.

Yuri was in his arms even before he had made it half way, and then he felt soft lips on his. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!!”, Yuri whined between kisses. “Asshole, never do that again!”

“It’s fine”, Otabek whispered against Yuri’s lips, then pulled him closer, closer.

“There’s blood on your face”, Yuri whispered, wiping something from Otabek’s cheek, then kissed him again, then backed away again. “Did you kill him?”

For the first time since this nightmare had started, since what felt like forever although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, Otabek smiled. “No, Yuri. I’m not a killer.” He leaned in to kiss Yuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out my tumblr for the layout of Otabek's flat now that he finally has some furniture XD
> 
> Good bye, Dima!


End file.
